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#the big queen and king in the middle
sleepynegress · 2 years
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kiwibirdlafayette · 1 year
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im personally used to not a single one of my headcanons ever being remotely close to canon because my brain likes to go off on very wild tangents from what little crumbs we're given so if im Very Loud about some fanon thing its because if i cant win im still gonna make sure the entire world comes to understand the absolute joy and fun that can come from saying fuck you to adhering to canon and instead creating c h a o s
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It should be illegal for places to put two beds together to make a bigger bed. I should be able to sleep in the middle of the bed and not have the hard edges of two mattresses digging into me.
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darkbluekies · 1 year
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Catch the queen
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yandere!king OC x fem reader
Summary: you're fleeing the evil king and hide in the village, hoping to blend in before you can run away for real. Edmund loses his mind and decides to lure you out with fire.
Warnings: yandere, arson, knives, harassment, drunk men, isolation, behading, corpses, a bit of Stockholm symdrome, hints of abuse, name calling
Word count: 4k.
Edmund’s arms are like suffocating cages. Everytime his hands touch you, you lose the ability to breathe. His kisses feel like fire and burn your skin every time they press against you. You can’t take it anymore. You don’t want to be his pretty doll. 
You have nothing planned, but you know that you need to be quiet and run the fastest you possibly can. 
Quietly, you get out of his arms. They’re difficult to bend off of you, but finally, they loosen up. You’re careful not to step on any creaky floor planks as you try to dress yourself. Covering yourself in a dark blue cloak and your body in a warm dress is normally a hard task, but near impossible now that you have to look over your shoulder and try to make your trembling hands cooperate. You grab your dagger, a gift from Edmund. He wants you to be able to protect yourself if he’s ever away from you. 
Edmund twists and turns in bed. He never stays still unless he holds you in his arms. You have to get out of here before he realizes that you're no longer in his embrace. Guards are walking through the mighty corridors, but you do your best to avoid them all and sink into dark corners when they pass by. Heart beating loudly in your ears. A part of you regrets ever trying to leave. They’ll notice you soon enough and then you’ll have to get down on your bare knees and beg forgiveness from Edmund. He’ll revel in it and you can’t stand seeing that satisfied smirk on his face when he once again gets what he wants. 
Finally. Finally, you manage to leave the castle. A fresh breeze hits your face. WIthout looking back, you run. But where? The forest is deep and dangerous at night. Thieves hide where to get away from the royal knights. If they noticed you, you'd be their hostage. Edmund would get you back to every price and you'd be right back where you started. You have to blend in to get away. You have to go to the village. 
It’s late at night and you doubt that anyone is up to help you. No lights are shining in the windows and all doors are locked. The streets are as empty as the grave. You pull the cloak closer to your body. What should you do? It’s not safe to be out on the countryside roads during the night. You can’t leave the village in the middle of the night and even if you do, the chances of your legs giving up before you reach another is too big to take. 
You run through the dark alleyways, looking for somewhere to spend the night. Tomorrow morning when the sun rises, you’ll move on. It’s dangerous to stay in the same kingdom as Edmund. He’ll find you too quickly. 
You find a barn where you decide to spend the night. Carefully, you lay down in the hay and grass, making yourself comfortable. You shiver at the cold air and hug yourself to keep yourself warm. It takes an hour until you finally fall asleep. 
Drunken male voices wake you up a while later. 
“Oh, look at this”, one slurs. “A woman. Let’s have some fun.”
You freeze and reach for the dagger Edmund’s given you, ready to go to attack. 
“What’s a pretty lady doing here?” another one asks, sounding just as drunk. He hiccups. “Did we get a blessing? Oh, we’re so lucky.”
You hurry up from your hiding place and try to make a run for it, but the two men grab you. 
“Don’t leave yet”, they purr drunkenly. “We’re not done yet.”
You breathe out in stress and give the men deadly glares. Something clears up in their dull eyes. 
“Holy shit, it’s the queen!” one of them gasps. 
They’ll have to let you go now, you think. 
“We’re really lucky then”, the other one says. 
You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut. Quickly, you kick the man in front of you and stab the one behind you with your dagger, leaving it behind. The two of them grunt and fall down on the dirty floor. You run for your life out of the barn and into the dark village. The men run behind you and you know that you have to get away before they find you again. You duck into someone’s backyard and hide behind a bush. The two men run past you. You gulp. Is this how things will be from now on? You sniffle and hide your face in your cloak’s sleeve. 
“Why are you crying?” a tiny voice asks. 
You look up and see a little boy hugging a teddy bear. He’s standing in front of you. You hadn’t seen him, he blends into the night air. 
“I’m scared” you whisper and force a smile. “Do you live here?”
The boy nods.
“I’m sorry for trespassing. I needed to hide from those bad men who followed me.”
“Are you really the queen?”
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t you in the castle?”
You wipe your tears carefully. 
“I’m playing hide and seek with the king”, you whisper. “I can’t let him find me or he’ll win.”
“I can help you!”
You smile slightly and caress the little boy’s cheek. 
“I can’t let you get involved”, you sniffle. “The king is a sore loser, he’ll be mad if someone helps me. He’ll think I’m cheating.”
In more ways than one. 
“I’m not a sore loser!” the boy smiles. 
“That’s good”, you say. “Edmund could learn from you.”
“I want to be king one day!”
“I think you should be one. You seem like a smart king.”
“Leon, who are you talking to?” a female voice asks from the back door. “You should be sleeping!”
“Mom, mom! The queen is here!”
“Leon, don’t lie-”
You stand up and the woman gasps. She’s wearing a brown, cheap dress with her head in a messy bun. 
“Y-Your majesty!” she stutters and bows. “Leon, go inside.”
The little boy runs past his mother and leaves you with his mother. The woman hurries over to you. 
“Your majesty, why are you here?” she asks. “Are you alright?”
“I’m … I’m hiding”, you whisper. “I have to get away from here.”
“Do you need anything? Can I get you something? Are you hungry?”
You can feel your stomach rumble slightly and nod shyly. The woman smiles and nods at the back door. 
“Come here, I’ll get you something to eat.”
You follow the woman into the little house and into an even smaller kitchen. She walks over to the stove and starts to prepare something that smells like childhood. In a few minutes she places a bowl of hot porridge on the table in front of you. You take a spoonful.
“I apologize if it’s bad”, she says nervously. “I know that you’re used to high class dishes.”
“No, I like it. It reminds me of my mothers cooking. I miss that.”
Leon runs over to the table. You pet his hair with a smile. The woman sends him to bed. 
“Why are you up?” you ask the mother. “It’s late …”
“I know”, she sighs sadly. “But I get so worried when my husband is out and about. I can’t go to sleep before he’s home. It seems to disrupt Leon too. He insists on staying up with me, but I’d rather not have him see his father’s state.”
“How old is he?”
“Four.”
“He’s adorable.”
“My queen, can you tell me why you’re out hiding? Has something happened?” She shakes her head. “Forgive me for asking. I shouldn’t.”
“It’s okay. It’s just … some things. All you need to know is that I have to get away from here.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure yet. Away from here. I can’t go to my parents either. I don’t know where I should go. But I’ll figure it out. In time.”
“Stay here for the night. We’ll figure something out tomorrow.”
“Thank you, you’re too kind.”
Despite the woman’s kindness, you have a hard time falling asleep. What will Edmund think when he wakes up? What will he do?
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The bed feels oddly cold for the both of you to be here. He feels around after you, but can’t feel another body. Quickly, he opens his eyes and looks around. Where are you?
“Y/N?” he asks. “Where are you?”
No answer. He gets up from the bed quicker than a cat getting scared. 
“Y/N, answer me!” he says, growing nervous. “Don’t hide!”
When he doesn’t get an answer again, he freezes. You haven’t escaped, have you? He’d like to think that you know better. Edmund barges up from his bed and out into the mighty corridors. He shouts at the guards to collect the knights and prepare his horse. He’ll find you. And if you refuse to show, or if someone is hiding you … they'll feel his wrath. His plan will make sure you never dare to go against him like this ever again. 
With no trace and no idea where you could be hiding, they decide to do the most practical thing in this situation. They ride into the village, gaining all of the people's attention.The king stops his horse right by his secretary’s and looks over the crowd that has gathered to see what has made the king come down to them. You’re none of the spectators. The king’s secretary holds up a piece of paper and a megaphone-looking thing in front of his face to make sure that everyone will hear him. 
“Tonight, the queen ran away from the castle!” the secretary says loudly. “We suspect that she is hiding among you somewhere and that one of you is shielding her. If you don’t give her back in an hour, we will burn this village to the ground in our hunt for his wife. Now the king would like to say a few words.”
He backs away, letting Edmund take the spotlight.
"Y/N, you better come out!" Edmund shouts with a gaze running among the crowd. “Don't be stupid and sacrifice so many innocent lives just because you are afraid! You don't have to be afraid, my queen! I will never hurt you! You can trust me! We belong together and it’s about time you accept that!” He turns to his secretary and lowers his voice. “I’m going to kill the one hiding her from me.”
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You can’t hear him, you have no idea of what he’s planning. You’re sleeping soundly in the bed you’ve gotten. When you wake up, it’s too late.
“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask as you see people run past the window.
You can see a layer of thick, black smoke covering the sky. A flame is spreading among the houses. 
“We have to leave!” the woman shouts and picks up Leon in her arms. “Your majesty, come with us, we’ll shield you!”
You follow her out into the chaos. People are screaming and crying and running for their lives. You get pushed left to right as the big crowd flees. Heat is hitting you in the face in an uncomfortable manner. It’s hard to breathe. 
“Knights!” Leon gasps in awe. “And the king!”
You freeze and turn around, seeing the royal horses. You can glimpse Edward on his white lady. Without a second doubt, you move closer into the overpacked crowd. You look around, seeing the two men from yesterday. 
“There’s the whore!” they shout. 
You look at the little boy in his mothers arms and gulp. 
“I have to go”, you say quickly to them and caress Leon’s head. “I’ll find you later. Now you have to hurry!”
“Are you sure, your majesty?” the mother asks. 
You nod and give them a push in the other direction. “Hurry!”
They leave. You start to run in another direction before the men can catch up to you. You run into a less packed alleyway. They corner you against a burning wall.
“You fucking bitch”, one of them hisses and presses your dagger against your neck. “You don’t shove your knife into me and think you can get away with it! I don’t care who the fuck you are, I’ll make sure you never dare to try to do this again!”
“This fire is your fault, you fucking bitch”, the other growls. “You’ve ruined our entire livelihood! You’re so fucking selfish.”
You kick the man in front of you between his legs and run. The other man trips over his friend, giving you a bit of an advantage. You end up on an empty street. You stop when you see the white horse a few meters in front of you. You want to run, but the mere sight of him makes you paralyzed.
“W-What have you done?” you gasp. “Look around!”
“I had to get you to show yourself one way or another”, he says calmly. “No one told me where you were. I gave them an hour to give you to me or I’d burn down their little village.” He shrugs. “Yet they didn’t … so all of this are the consequences of trying to hide you from me. It’s not my fault the peasants disobeyed me.”
Tears start to run down your cheeks. Is all of this your fault? If only you had known about his idiotic idea, you could have stopped it. 
Edmund jumps down from his horse and opens his arms. 
“Come here, my love”, he says softly. “You have nowhere to run. Why don’t you just do yourself a favor and return to me?  You can’t hide from me in the end. Be a good girl, alright?”
“I’m scared, Edmund”, you admit through your sobs. You’re not sure what you’re more afraid of — him or the men following you.
“I know, my love, I know.” He gulps. “Come into my arms. I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure that everything will be okay, alright?”
You hesitate. It’s so tempting to run into his arms and let him take control again. These have been a couple of terrifying hours and you don’t want them to continue. You want a roof over your head again and the safety of having your necessities met again. Staying out on the street won’t be safe.
“It won’t matter where you go, I’ll always find you”, Edmund continues. “Your righteous place is with me. You have to understand that. We married — you belong to me by law. You can’t just run away from me like this. Come here, my queen, let me hold you.”
An immense exhaustion creeps into your body. You’ve been in survival mode for hours by now, your fight is over, you can’t win against Edmund. You look around. If you stay here any longer, you’ll start to burn and people will get even more hurt. All of this is your fault. Everyone will blame you for this. You won’t be safe here. All you want is to relax and have someone else take care of everything … but Edmund’s not a good person. If you go back, he’ll punish you. But maybe that’s better than having an entire village after you, wanting you dead for burning down their houses? You look over to Edmund, at his soft, loving eyes. You run over to him, into his strong arms. He wraps his arms around you tightly and you sob into his shoulder. If everyone hates you for the fire … you know that he will still be on your side. He’ll always be by your side.
“Don’t cry, my love, it hurts me so”, he whispers into your ear and holds you tightly. “Everything will be okay now.” He pulls back, cups your cheeks frantically and gives your lips a desperate kiss. He presses his own against yours, moving faster than you can keep up with. “Fuck, I always feel like a drunken man when I’m with you.”
Speaking of drunken men, your fan club is back. You look over your shoulder with a small whimper. However, you’re not as scared anymore. Not when you have the king’s strong arms wrapped around you. Edmund notices something. 
“Y/N, why do they have your dagger?” he asks suspiciously as his grip on you tightens. 
You press yourself close to him without thinking and he clenches his jaw before tightening his arms around you in a protective manner. 
“Don’t worry, my dear”, he says coldly. “I’ll kill them for touching you.”
He pulls out his sword as his knights ride over. 
“Make sure Y/N doesn’t leave”, he says and gives you to the closest knight. “I’m going to take care of these men.”
Edmund runs after the two men with his sword raised. The knight who holds you helps you up on Edmund’s horse. 
“Your majesty”, he says. “We need to move out of here before the fire traps us. I’ll lead your horse.”
You hug the white horse’s neck as the knights lead you through the destroyed village, out of the danger zone. You can’t watch it. 
Edmund’s soon back. The two men are in chains and led by some knights. Edmund holds your dagger in his hands before placing it together with his sword. 
“Are you hurt, my love?” he asks worriedly and stands by the horse. “You have a mark on your throat. Did they try to hurt you?”
You nod slowly. Edmund turns to the two men with his own fire burning in his eyes. 
“How fucking dare you think that you could touch my wife?!” he growls and slaps one of them as hard as he can. “You fucking left a mark on my wife!”
He spits at their feet before walking back to his horse and jumps up in front of you. He forces your hands to hug his waist. You rest your cheek on his back to hide your crying face. Edmund caresses your intertwined hands over his stomach and rides over to his knights.
“Don’t cry, my dear”, he whispers softly over his shoulder. “You’re safe now.” He turns to his knights and his voice goes cold. “I got what I came for. Let’s go back.”
“What about the village, your majesty?” a knight asks. 
“Pour some water on it.”
Without saying anything more, the king rides away. He holds one of his hands over yours to comfort your sobs. He lifts one of your hands to his lips and gives it kisses. 
“You’ve must been so scared among all of those horrible, horrible people”, he says over his shoulder. “Don’t worry though, Y/N, you’re never going out into the real world again. Never again, you hear me?”
You nod against his shoulder. You’re not sure that the people would even want you back into their village after this. 
He stops the horse out on the castle’s front yard and helps you down by your waist. Some maids run out to meet you and Edmund hesitates giving you to them. 
“Give her a bath”, he demands. “I can only imagine all the fleas and bacterias she has gotten. She smells like smoke. When she’s done, take her into our chamber and make sure she stays there. I’ll talk to her later.”
He gives you to the maids who pull you inside the castle and gives you the hottest bath you’ve ever encountered. You’re sure your skin is melting off. They dress you in the finest of silk and lead you to your shared chamber. You sit down in the bed, waiting for Edmund to come back. He enters the room thirty minutes later.
“I’m not going to let you off the hook”, he says and pulls up his sleeves. 
“I won’t run away again, Edmund, I promise”, you whine in fear. “Please-”
“Shh, darling, I don’t think you have the right to shout at me. Not after the hell you’ve put me through. You should be happy that I don’t behead you together with the two dogs who thought they could touch what's mine!” He runs his veiny hand through his dark hair. “I’m going to give you two punishments. One, watch the beheading-”
“I refuse-”
“Shut up, Y/N. Two, you are going to spend three days in the tower with me.”
The tower is like the dungeons just without the rats and prisoners. You gulps.
“You’re going to learn how much of the things you have here is thanks to me, my love”, Edmund says. “Every piece of clothing you own, every day you spend under my roof, every bite of food you get … is thanks to me. When I’m not there, you have nothing and you get chased by disgusting men like those two in the dungeons. After our little vacation to the tower, you’ll understand. Get up, we have a beheading to watch.”
He pulls you with him to the balcony with a cramping hold. The two men are put on display out on the castle’s front yard and they’re facing you. Edmund stands beside you like a stone. 
“Please don’t!” one of the men shouts in desperation. “Please, we’re sorry!”
“Sorry, my ass”, you mutter. 
Edmund chuckles and kisses your temple. 
“Your majesty, please, you met my son!” one of them shouts. “Leon!”
You frown, feelings suddenly shifting. Leon …
“Please, don’t deprive him of a father!”
“Edmund …”, you whisper sadly. 
“He was going to deprive me of a wife”, Edmund answers coldly. “He’s going to die.”
“But he has a son, Edmund! I know he’s an asshole, but-”
“Do you want him to set an example for his son, hm? Do you want him to treat his wife the way he treated you?”
You think of the nice lady who helped you and her adorable little son. You’ve given them enough problems. If you let this man go back to them … 
“You’re right”, you whisper firmly. “Kill them.”
“That’s my girl.”
Edmund shouts for the guards to end the men's pathetic lives. You watch with hate in your eyes. Leon and his mother will never hurt again and they’ll not be able to harass any more girls in the village. 
“Now we don’t have to worry about them anymore, my dear”, Edmund says when the corpses get pulled off the ground. “Let’s go to the tower now.”
“So you can indoctrinate me?” you mutter sarcastically. 
“Exactly.”
He pulls you by the arm with him through the castle’s mighty corridors. He walks behind you up the spiral stone stairs to the tower’s little room. If you stop or slow down, he gives you a small push. 
“Move those little legs for me, pretty”, he encourages you. “We’re not there yet.”
“But there’s so many stairs”, you complain.
“You ran all the way down to the village with those legs, you can walk a couple of stairs.”
You reach the rounded room in what feels like an hour. You sink down into a sitting position on the old, wooden floor. Edmund chuckles at you. 
“You need to grow some muscles, my dear”, he says and then frowns. “Or don’t. The weaker you are, the less I have to worry about you running away again.”
You look around in the room, noticing that it’s completely empty. 
“As you can see”, Edmund says and closes the wooden plugs over the window. “There is nothing here. If you want to be comfortable and not sit on the floor, you’ll have to sit in my lap. If you want food, you’ll have to ask me so I can get it for you and if you’re cold, you’ll have to cuddle up to me. Any questions?”
You’re about to give him a sassy remark, but hold back. It won’t end well for you if you do. 
“Good girl”, Edmund smirks and sneaks his arms around your waist. “Now let’s enjoy each other's company, hm?”
This will be the death of you.
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dabisbratz · 10 months
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𝒮𝒰𝒞𝒦𝐸𝑅-𝒫𝒰𝒩𝒞𝐻 ! — toji fushiguro x male reader
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w.c: 3.9k
warning: boxer!toji, size difference/kink, daddy kink, bottom!reader, manhandling, fingering, light feminization, light crossdressing ( ? ), unprotected sex, creampie, praise/degradation, oral sex, size queen ( king? )! reader, impact play ( slapping ), light choking, descriptions of violence (boxing) & blood, hair pulling, tummy bulge, spit, cliffhanger, breeding kink
sonny says..! a lot of ppl think tummy bulges in fics = skinny reader, but when i write them in s’not true for m’fics ! the reader has no body-type descriptions, it’s really jus that toji’s so big he makes one. your body is perfect the way it is, n fanfiction is !! not !! realistic!!
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Fushiguro’s got a thing for adrenaline.
It gets his blood pumping— literally and figuratively. It gets him bouncing from one foot to another before his match even begins, his body shakes with uncontrollable tremors and he has to grit his pearly teeth to keep them from chattering. He feels it coursing through his veins, thick and steady as it pumps through with each passing beat of his heart, and he’s never felt more alive.
It gets his heart beating. Loud and rushed in his ears as the sound joins cheering fans in their symphony, muffled by the doors that separate backstage from the ring. Yet he can still hear it, the loud, constant cheer of ‘Toji! Toji! Toji!’ bouncing off his eardrums and straight to his racing heart. It’s almost incomparable.
He knows you’ll be watching tonight, back at home surrounded by memorabilia that reminds you solely of him and his success— his accomplishments and trophies. But you’re the best of them all, his boy, sitting pretty by the sofa as you flick on the tv to watch your man take home another. To say he’s excited would be childish.
He’s over the fucking moon.
“Fushiguro,” It’s his coach speaking, something incoherent in comparison to everything else— the inky black strands of hair already sticking to his forehead, the sight of his veins cascading up his forearm just to reappear thick in his biceps, his freshly bandaged hands being painted with chalk. But he hears it anyway. The man is quick to whip his head to the side, an intense shadow in his lime eyes that has his support team shivering. “Not too much this time.”
Right. Because last time he’d let himself get a little carried away. It was the atmosphere of it all, hanging heavy in the air as he sent punch after punch after punch into the guy, one headshot after another. And sure, maybe he went too far, but at least he never went for the back of the head.
See, Toji considers himself a capable man. He’s big, he’s strong, he’s got it figured out whatever they choose to believe in him or not. And, in the long haul, he’s got it. He’s who the fans turn to, who the reporters question; he’s the headlining artist. He’s the one who gets the title, the belts, the awards, the boy. If his opponent can’t handle a few punches to the face, that's their fault for signing up.
“I got it.” He says, teeth peeking from his plump, pink lips until they’re on display, predatory. And he means it.
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The arena is big. A large stadium with an even larger venue meant to pack what looks like at least half of Japan’s population. Smack dab in the middle sits the ring, with black, padded turnbuckles and four crimson ropes. Getting thrown onto the ring ground feels like concrete, solid and rough on any skin that touches it. It’s unforgiving, it’s violent. It’s permanent, and every fight could well be Toji’s last.
But that might just be why he loves it.
His chest heaves violently, large intakes of air through his nose and out through his mouth as he pounds his gloved fist against his gloved palm. His lips part, salty and sheen with sweat as water squirts into his waiting mouth, dripping down his chin and cascading down his chest. He looks good despite it all— the bleeding lip and bruised cheek. It makes the scar on his lip look fresh, freshly split open, and he can’t help but prod at it with his tongue. In the crowd, you wonder if he feels as though it’s been reopened.
“Remember the formation,” It’s garbled through the shouting, the cheering, the pounding in his ears. He can’t quite remember anything, boxing just isn’t that type of thing for him. It’s not algorithmic, he doesn’t have to remember or practice a routine, it’s muscle memory. It’s natural. “You hear me, Scarface?”
“Loud n’ clear.” Though it’s gone through one ear and out the other.
It looks like he’s losing. He’s gotten a few good hits in, caused a few nosebleeds, but his attacks to the body just haven’t been cutting it. His opponent, the smug bastard of a man, with blond hair and woodsy brown eyes may not look as bad as Fushiguro does, but he looks just as tired. He can’t have that, no, not when you’re at home watching. Not when the jumbotrons are broadcasting in front of hundreds and thousands of fans.
There’s a pat on his back that has Toji jolting forward, more on his own volition, but if anyone asks he’ll blame it on that anyway. Because he feels it now, the pent up tenacity bubbling through his veins and straight to his fists as he bares his teeth and stares down his opponent. It’s not like he’s trying to look intimidating— Toji’s a big man. He towers over most, even if they’re in the same weight category. He’s just big, with broad shoulders and an equally broad chest. With a broad rib cage that dips at his waist and widens back at his hips, then travels down his thick, strong thighs and legs.
And, fuck, if his tired-looking opponent isn’t as strong. He throws strong punches that land square center, almost enough to have Toji stumbling. They’ve got matching, blooming bruises. Matching cuts, and Fushiguro swears if he has to watch the blond stretch between matches one more time he’ll knock himself out.
And then he hears it. He does, really— he knows it’s real because he’s fucking hard. His boy, his sweet boy, somewhere in the crowd chanting his name. The only name that ever leaves his lips, sweet as honey whether it’s being moaned or screamed— whether it’s serious or in a fit of boyish giggles. You’re watching. In person. . . In the stadium, you’re watching.
Toji’s cock twitches in his shorts and he’s never felt more grateful for protective cups in his life.
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When he walks through the door the air changes.
There’s a small murmur of ‘I’m home, pretty.’ that’s deep and gravelly, accompanied by the sounds of duffel bags falling to the floor with a sharp thud. Toji’s hands look so big as he runs them through his hair, freshly bandaged and flexing effortlessly. How rough would they feel against your ass. . ? You can’t help but imagine his strong hands squeezing and groping your body, his palm cracking down on your ass as he holds you still by your waist alone.
He must catch onto your presence by the hitch of your breath, because the moment he opens his eyes they’re on you. You feel like prey, blinking rapidly as you watch him stalk over despite still wearing his shoes. He’s going to eat you alive, you’re sure of it, his green eyes narrowing as he tugs on the collar of his black compression shirt.
“Hi.” You start, unsure of what to say. It always comes naturally to you— talking to your boyfriend, his overwhelming presence, being able to talk to him despite how intimidating he seems. But now he’s got you stumbling over your words, staring at you in thick silence that makes you want to bury your face in his chest until he says something.
His eyes slowly roam your body, taking in your clothes with a sharp intake of breath through his teeth.Your legs feel like jelly, of course they do, wobbly and malleable and suddenly cold because of all the breeze they’re getting. Right, you’d rushed home to put on your prettiest outfit— a reward for the man. For the champion.
Though pretty might not be the word for it. Sure, it is, but skimpy is much more appropriate. With lace and ribbons and garters on each of your thighs, you’re a sight for sore eyes. The prettiest boy he’s ever seen, leaving little to his imagination (not that he needs it anyway, he’s seen you naked a thousand times over) and stumbling over your own legs with his gaze alone. It makes him want to pull out his phone and replace his lockscreen (already you, but much more innocent). Toji tilts his head to the side, a sharp grin growing on his handsome face.
“This all for me? You shouldn’t have.”
Whether it’s subconscious or not, watching his pink tongue dart out to wet his lips makes you swallow down a whine, squirming where you stand. Your boyfriend, big as ever, bends at his waist to fully tower over you, emerald irises darkening with something that has your stomach twisting and lurching. He’s seen it then, his very first gold medal adorning your neck.
“Toji!” You squeal, chirping in his ears as he whips you around and backs you into a corner. So cute, you look so cute wearing one of his medals. It adorns your pretty neck and glints under the light, his name encrusted into the gold. Like a collar, of sorts.
“Pretty baby,” He purrs in response, swapping the names with his fist curled around the medal, pulling you closer. The grin etched across his face shows nothing but pride, swelling in his chest and glinting over his sharp teeth. “What’d I say about comin’ to my matches?”
You swallow down the lump in your throat, shaking your head before he stalks forward to close the gap between your lips. Fushiguro still tastes vaguely of metallic blood, but his busted lips are just as soft as they were this morning. They’re much more rushed, not as slow or smooth as before— but now he has a goal. His tongue is quick to slip into your mouth, wet and silky in your mouth, enough to have you moaning before he even starts. His hands creep up your body, large palms pressing against your throat until his hands find your hair and tug.
With a gasp you’re immediately brought back, blinking away unshed tears as your hand reaches for your boyfriend’s thick wrist, “Ow! You—”
“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”
Yeah. Well, yes, he did. And you have an answer, you always do. Always have something to say, something that keeps his eyes glued to your pretty lips. Something smart, sometimes, that has the man ready to shut you up with a mouthful of his cock.
“You said,” You huff, bratty as ever, wrapping your hands around his wrist. Your fingers don’t meet, he’s much too big, and you’re sure your grip feels like an ant crawling up his forearm. “Not to, because,” Another tug. “ ‘It distracts you.’ ”
“Right,” He sounds noncommittal, eyes focused on the contractions in your throat as you swallow down your whines. The fist in your hair turns as a gentle palm, flattening against the back of your head as he holds you still. Your man smells faintly of musk and disinfectant— it makes you want to swoon. To drop to your knees and mouth at the fabric of his sweatpants until his dick— it’s yours though, really— is lined up against your cheek and his pre is dribbling down your face. “You distract me.”
“Am I. . .”His hand is on your chin now, lifting your gaze until you’re standing on your tiptoes. Always been so big, so strong, pressing his thumb into the plush of your cheeks with a bit more force than necessary. Your breath is caught in your throat, and your voice comes out breathy and soft and small, “M’I distracting you now, Daddy?”
There’s a sound akin to a purr the second he hears it, the title sweet as saccharin on your lips. Jet black bundles of hair swish and sway as he shakes his head, somewhat ignoring the question as his hands travel past your waist to grope and squeeze at your ass. Soft, squishy. You’ve always been so soft, so little in Toji’s grip, his pretty boy.
But you’re even prettier when your holes are stuffed full and stretched open. You’re even prettier when the sets you’ve put together are ripped and tattered on your body— when you’re a mess of sweat, and spit, and cum. You’re easy to move around— most are easy to be moved by Toji, but you especially.
You’re obedient when it counts, and the second he’s pushing your knees down to the floor you’re opening your mouth.
“Whose mouth is this?” Your brain is foggy but you know the answer to that one. You do, you do, because it always ends in cum down your throat and an array of ‘good boy’s whispered into the air. There’s a rustle of fabric as he fishes his cock from his sweatpants, no longer a large, girthy dickprint twitching under the cotton. Now it’s in his hand, hot and curved and leaking.
Daddy squeezes at his cock, his large hand sliding into a fist that clamps down around the thick, rose gold head, then sloooowly back down to the thick, pulsing, veiny shaft. You want his cock inside, stretching past your rim and splitting you open while you cry and whine over how big he is, you want his cock sliding inside until he fills you up with his sticky, hot cum— so much so it feels like you’re dying, being held down on his cock while load after load is released into your hot hole. He spits down onto it, saliva thick and runny, collecting at the tip until it’s smeared down to the base and mixing with his pre.
“S’yours, Daddy,” You're gasping around the sticky head of his cock, catching the leaking precum on your tongue as he taps it against your lips. It’s bitter and salty, but thick and invasive in a way that makes you feel properly owned. “Yours to fuck, gonna cum down m’throat, Daddy? Want. . . Need you to, wanna feel you shoot on m’tongue.”
“That—fuck— that mouth. . . A’course it’s. . . mine..” He trails off above you, and if you can think, you think you can barely breathe. You’re trembling against his strong thighs, struggling to form words around the jumbled and garbled moans leaving your mouth as Toji’s fingers rub in smooth, slick circles against your entrance. You don’t remember him having lube, but you can’t complain when his fingers feel so creamy rubbing your hole.
If you can think, you think you can barely breathe. You’re trembling against his strong thighs, struggling to form words around the jumbled and garbled moans leaving your mouth as Toji’s fingers rub in smooth, slick circles.
He appreciates the easy access.
You’re sure if he lets go you’ll fall straight through the floor, knees trembling, a needy puddle. And maybe you’re crying, sliding off his cock with wet pops and sticky whines— you’re not entirely sure. All you can hear are Toji’s groans, his grunts of ‘goodboygoodboygoodboy’ as his other hand squeezes around your throat so it tightens around his thick cock. That and his big fingers playing with your hole, swirling and sinking and teasing your mushy walls until you’re fluttering around the digits and letting out pitiful, bitchy whines.
You’re burying your face against his dark pubes, swallowing hard around his dick with thick, sloppy gags that have you coughing against his balls. Whatever Toji’s saying, it’s earned you a tender pat to the back of your head, sweet and light in comparison to his rocking hips that make you jolt back and forth. Your knees dig into the wood, but you don’t necessarily mind it. It's grounding, and you can focus on the drool pooling between your knees as he bends at the waist to finger you.
“. . .want it in here?” There’s a snap of fingers that makes you blink away the edges of fogginess clouding your judgment, and you find yourself being pulled free from his musky cock. Your throat is empty, you’re empty, and you can’t help but press your face into his spit-slick thigh. But there’s a tap to your cheek, a big palm cracking down on the fat of your face, and now you’re much more alert.
“Uh. . .Huh?” You blink away the emotional whiplash, leaning into the now gentle, bandaged thumb rubbing circles against your cheekbone. Then his hand moves lower, past your jaw to collect the ribbon of his medal where it hangs from your throat, and pulls.
“In here, baby,” There’s emphasis on his question with his fingers pounding into you enough to make your toes curl, and your eyes roll back as the digits press against that sweet, jammy bundle of nerves. “Want Daddy’s dick in here?”
You’re not sure whether to pout or nod. You’ve missed an opportunity for his load down your throat, but it’s even better when it’s in your tummy. It’s Toji’s night, decidedly, and it seems you’ve made your choice when you hear yourself whine, “Yes, Daddy. Please!”
You’re not sure how you got here, how fast he’s maneuvered you— back against the wall and knees over his big, broad shoulders— but you’re not complaining. There’s a light buzz in your hips, so you assume he’s picked you up, weightless in his arms, and folded your legs over his arms.
“S’big, s’so so big, Daddy, fuck,” You’re crying into your forearm as Toji holds you still by the neck, his other hand running up and down your tummy. It’s soothing just as much as it is hot, it doesn’t take much for his large hand to roam over your body. But it can’t make you stop whimpering at the feeling of his dick splitting your tiny hole in half. “Not gonna fit— it can’t.”
“It’ll fit. it’s fit before, hasn’t it? Y’have a greedy hole on you, baby.” You’re gasping and trembling with his cock sliding in and out of your opening, sticky lube pooling along with it and connecting his tip to your boyhole. He feels so big, so thick and hot when he taps it against your hole, barely breaching the tiny gape of your shy hole. “And if not we’ll just have to make it fit, won’t we?”
“Yeah, yeah. . .” You breathe, staring up into his eyes with a fucked-out smile. Toji— Daddy—looks so good, so handsome and strong as he offers a scarred smile back. “Can make it fit. Can take it.”
You hiccup, overwhelmed tears streaming down your face as you reach past your thighs to spread the globes of your ass open wide, your pretty hole slightly gaping and winking at his cock. There’s a breathy groan in return, deep and shaky as Toji takes the opportunity to slip past your rim,, past the burning stretch of your fluttering star that sucks him deeper and deeper into your slick, gummy walls. “Wanna feel you for days, wanna get so full, think it’ll take, Daddy? Your cum?”
“Fuck,” He moans, gruff and throaty at the implication. Breeding you, his cock-hungry boy, until you’re full of his cum and unable to move. Until you’re a daddy. “If it doesn’t we’ll just keep going until it does.”
Your hand clasps around the gold medal like a lifeline, eyebrows pinched as his long, thick cock stretches you open. The curve of his dick has you mewling, tears building in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks up into you, despite telling you to ride him. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it, the feeling of his cock splitting you open like he owns you, or the way his big hands press matching bruises into your hips.
“Open.” Your lips are already parted, hearty moans and whines leaving your mouth over and over. But you make the extra effort to stick out your tongue nonetheless, the wet muscle pretty and glossed over. And, much to your confusion, there’s a gentle kiss placed to the temple of your forehead before he’s hovering back over you.
“Good boy.”
A sloppy string of saliva falls from his lips, missing your tongue by a mile— instead landing on your cheek. It’s enough to make you flinch, a pitiful squeak of a sound escaping as your eyes clench and blink away confusion.
“Oh, I missed,” Fushiguro’s smile is fond and cruel. “Oops.”
You’re so whiny, lifting and rocking your hips as a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself full of cock. It seems you can go barely a few seconds without it, working your hips down the thickness of his cock even as you struggle to take it. His hand gathers the spit, a genuine smile splitting his lips when you move your head to suck them clean.
Such a good boy.
“Really workin’ for it, aren’t you?” Voice as sweet as it is mocking, lube gushes and trickles out with every tilt of your hips. The wet slurp of his dick goes makes you preen, body tightening as you tremble and shake. You’re speared on his cock over, and over, and over, again, and again, and again. It’s more like he’s using you as some sort of fuck-machine than actually fucking you, but it makes sense. Daddy’s much too big to bounce on, it’s easier if he uses you like a toy. It’s easier to keep yourself open, to welcome his cock inside your sloppy hole with the flutter of your lashes. “Good thing you got that medal on, really are the tightest cocksleeve I own. Deserve a trophy for it.”
You don’t have to imagine how deep he is, how far his slick cock reaches, because you can see it. Right there, in your tummy, his cock bulges big and pulsing. You thought feeling him twitch against your walls was enough to have you squirting along both your chests but. . . no. It’s his hand, big and veiny, pressing right into the bulge. Your eyes roll back until your back is arching off the wall— tummy pressed against his palm— and you’re cumming harder than you thought you ever could.
“Shit, did you—”
“C’mon, please. Inside me, Daddy. Please, please I want. . . I can’t, please.” It’s easier if you don’t think about it, it’s easier if you sit there, a tiny toy just barely able to take his cock. You don’t even process your voice as your own, letting your big boyfriend squeeze your hips and lift you on and off his cock until he’s twitching uncontrollably. Your hands ball into tight fists, eyes clenched shut as he uses your trembling hole.
“Barely even touched you,” His breaths are hitched and quick, eyebrows furrowed as he focuses on the slapping of his balls against your ass. So tight and warm, gooey and soft against his thick shaft— massaging his cock just right. You’re so good. “And you came. You’re so easy. So easy to get you dumb off cock, so easy to bounce you up n’ down. Best pussy I’ve ever had.”
“Wait, don’t—” The words are caught in your throat, lips pulled into a small ‘o’ was thick rope after thick rope of cum shoots into your tummy, flooding your senses and spurting from your tight hole. You feel soaked, slick and sticky as your boyfriend offers a few sharp, heavy thrusts. His eyes are glued down, watching his cum make slick bubbles and slide down his own cock, just to disappear back inside your perfect hole. You can’t swallow down the drool escaping from the seams of your lips, instead letting it fall down your chest until your head is falling forward.
“Aht-aht,” You’re pressed dead-center into his chest, burying your messy face between the warm skin. “I’m not done with you yet. Want Daddy t’make you a daddy too, don’t you?”
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gilmore-angel · 11 months
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unexpected pleasures || A.T x fem!reader
summary ♱ reader has just wed the infamous aemond targaryen, and though she's nervous, she will soon discover there are many pleasurable things to come (tldr reader gets finger fucked good)
warnings/contains ♱ arranged marriage, awkwardness at first, smut obvi, sub!reader dom!aemond, fingering, praise kink!! use of good girl, pretty girl, wife. overall very fluffy!! soft!aemond<3. let me know if I should add anything else!!
authors note ♱ okok this is probably trash but I'm literally forcing myself to write rn<3 lol anyways this is also my first time actually writing for aemond which is crazy bc I've been obsessed with him since like early January💀. if you enjoy please reblog! likes are obviously appreciated but reblogs are the thing that actually help the writer<3 oh and lmk if you want a part two!!
navigation 𔓕 follow and turn on notifications for @baysfics to know when I post my writings
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married life isn't so bad after all.
of course, you've only been married for about three hours now, but it's going better than expected, which at this point is all you can hope for.
your new husband, prince aemond, has been quite pleasant thus far. you have only had roughly six full conversations since you were betrothed two months ago, but based off of them he was very polite and well educated.
though you had dreaded the wedding day, everything had gone smoothly. the ceremony itself was a big event, full of lords and ladies you didn't even know the house of, all eager to get on the new princesses good side. and of course there was the kiss you shared with aemond, one that sent an unknown feeling through you, settling at your lower belly. and now, the grand feast to celebrate the union.
it had less people there, only family and the very important houses were allowed to attend. you sat at the table in the middle, sitting in the center along with your husband. on your other side sat your father, mother and siblings, the same went for aemond. your husband stayed mostly silent during the feast, only speaking when spoken to.
your belly slightly ached with nerves for what was coming next; the bedding. thankfully, the queen had insisted upon a private bedding, just as she did for her other children when they wed. the action soothed your nerves a bit, but they still clung to you.
you had been warned by your mother that the bedding was an uncomfortable and painful process for the woman. but she also informed you that it is something all woman must do to please their lord husband and produce heirs.
you felt your heart sink when the king stood up weakly to announce it was time for you and aemond to head to your chambers. you both stood up and gave your goodbyes, your mother giving you a reassuring smile before you left.
there was an awkward silence as you walked with your husband to your chambers, escorted by guards. you glanced at him, only to see him looking straight ahead, blank expression on his handsome face.
once you arrived the guards pushed open the heavy wooden doors. you gave them a small smile in thanks before aemond dismissed them. as the doors closed aemond let out a small shaky sigh, you couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness or dread. you both stood awkwardly, unsure of where to begin. he spoke first, breaking the deafening silence.
"would you like help taking down your hair?" he blurted out. you nodded, giving him a awkward small smile.
"please," you moved past him to sit at the vanity. you began taking out the many odd placed pins and braids in your hair. aemond came up from behind you to start assisting in the process. the feeling of his long fingers in your hair made up for the times he would accidentally tugged too hard trying to take down the hairstyle. you both worked in silence, the only word spoken was his occasional 'sorry's when he would notice you wince.
now that your hair was down, the room was once again filled with an thick silence. eventually you stood up, turning to face him. you sucked in a breath, looking up at him nervously.
"should i..... should I remove my clothes, my prince?"
his eyes widened at the question, but he nodded, "yes, my lady... I can help."
he moved behind you, undoing the laces of the dress with shaky fingers. the gorgeous dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet. you stepped out of the dress, leaving you in a silky shift and small clothes. you felt quite vulnerable as you begun taking your shift off, even more so once it was gone.
aemond let out a shaky breath at the sight of you in nothing but your small clothes. he looks up and down your body, desire filling his eye. he walks closer to you, looking deep into your eyes.
"may I kiss you, my lady?" he asked, his usual cold tone gone, now replaced with a soft, caring one. you nod, eyes wide.
aemond smiled softly before leaning down and kissing your soft lips. this kiss was unlike the other one you both had shared just hours before. this one was out of pure want, not obligation.
you gasp softly against his lips when he deepened the kiss, your hands flying up to his strong shoulders. his hands found home on your hips. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, "is this okay?"
you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. "yes, my prince, I just... I don't really know how to do this properly."
he smiles at you softly, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek gently.
"that's okay, just copy what I do, okay?"
he leans back in, kissing at a slow pace. his lips are soft and warm against your own. you feel something wet poking at your bottom lip and soon realize it's his tongue. you open your mouth slightly and gasp when he slides his tongue in, exploring where he can reach. the sensation causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips.
he begins pushing you backwards gently until the back of your knees hit the edge of the plush bed behind you, causing you to lay down on it. to your surprise, aemond gets on his knees before you and pulls you down so your legs hang off the bed. leaning up on your elbows you look down at him extremely confused. "my prince... what are you doing?"
he simply smiled and blushed, "let me know if you wish to stop, okay my lady?". his big calloused hands went up and down your thighs, pulling them apart. you laid back, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. his hands eventually found their way to your small clothes.
"may I remove these, my lady?" one hand continued rubbing you thigh gently. you hum and nod. that wasn't good enough apparently and aemond lightly pinched your thigh. "words, wife. I need to hear some words out of those pretty lips."
you blushed deeply, taking a deep breath, "yes, please take them off."
he smiles, murmuring under his breath "good girl". you felt a tingle in your lower belly, growing each time he touched or talked to you.
he carefully slid your small clothes off, throwing them somewhere in the room. he sucked in a big breath at the sight of your bare cunt. you squirmed slightly, his gaze lighting you on fire almost.
"may I touch you, wife?" he spoke softly, a poorly hidden desire behind the words.
you nod but quickly remember what he told you. "yes, you may."
with one hand he softly rubbed your thigh, with the other he rubbed one finger up and down your lips, pushing past them and exploring the wet outside. your back slightly arched at the unknown but not unwelcomed feeling. he moved his finger higher until he found your clit. a high pitched whimper escaped your lips at his soft but achingly good touch.
he looked up at you with a sweet smile. "does that feel nice, wife?". his finger moved in gentle circles, pressing ever so slightly.
a few breathy whimpers and moans slipped out of your mouth. "yes," you breathed, "so so nice..."
he let out a hmm, continuing his movements. he moved his finger up and down, gathering your wetness and then spreading it around your sensitive clit. as he rubbed on your bundle of nerves, his other hand came up, softly pressing against your slit.
"this may feel strange, my lady, but I promise it'll feel so good soon, okay?" he pushed a long thick finger into your previously untouched hole, groaning at how tight you were. your back arched off the bed as a loud moan rang around the room. he slowly started moving it in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your body when he curled his finger upwards. your gummy walls tightened around him, almost as tight as he cock felt in his trousers.
he looked up to see your reaction, smiling when he saw your head thrown back in pleasure. soft whimpers left your mouth as his movements quickened.
"may I add a second finger, sweet girl?" something about the way he said the affectionate name sent chills down your spine as you slightly bucked against his hand.
"hmmph, yes, yes please husband." he smirked as he added a second finger. he pumped them in and out fast, his other hand still focused on your puffy clit.
suddenly a new feeling hit you. like some sort of knot in your belly, ready to explode any second. a panicked expression washed over you at the strange sensation.
"aemond, aemond! something is, fuck, happening!" you cried desperately, clenching the sheets beneath you hard.
"shh, it's okay, it'll feel so good. just let it happen sweet girl." it was too much and too little, it was overwhelming yet you needed more. it hurt but felt so so right.
before you could reply waves and waves of pleasure washed over you, drowning you in the feeling of him. your whole body shook, hips bucking wildly into his hand. creamy white cum drooled onto his fingers and hand. he groaned at the sight and fucked you through your peak.
he eventually slid his hand out and climbed up the bed, hovering over you. he brought his cum covered fingers to you mouth, "open," he commanded softly, sucking in a shaky breath when you wrapped you lips around them. he pulled them out, moving to caress your cheek, "such a good girl."
he began kissing your neck, trailing his hand back down to your thighs. you whimpered sweetly causing him to chuckle.
"oh, sweet wife, we are just getting started."
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shakirawastaken · 10 months
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dsmp if... you were a romance trope
i got inspiration (sapnap, dream, george, karl, quackiy, wilbur) 
sapnap (hockey x figure skater): - im in the middle of heartbreaker rn and SHUT UP - i LOVE THIS TROPE - IM NOT EVEN A FIGURE SKATER I DO TAEKWONDO BUT I STILL FROTH OVER THIS SHIT - and then in addition to that one tommyinnit is a figure skater and everyone else is on a hockey team “ice these hurts” or smt h like that - i love this trope. - anyway i think that this trope comes hand in hand with enemies to lovers - his hockey team and ur figure skating group are at the same winter sports competiton - and you have to share a rink - booooo - so everyday you end practice with the sight of a bunch of hockey buffs roughhousing in the stands, waiting for you to finish - and everyday a certain brunette one sneers and smirks at you as you walk off the ice - “had a nice practice ice queen/king?” he asks you teasingly - “shut up, yeti” you mutter back gratingly as you bump your shoulder into his build as you pass him - and he comes up with a new one everyday - and you quip right back at him, unphased - one day, he comes into practice early just to spite you - what he wasn’t expecting is to see how good you actually were on the ice - he sat there like “ :O” and just watche dyou glide across the ice with what seemed like barely any effort - and he watched how passionate you were in your craft and the dance - and bro was whipped right then and there - so that day as you were leaving he said “you were amazing out there” and it took u jumpscared - you were like “no insult today?” - and he was like “dang, didnt know u liked them that much ;) but not today, not for something as beautiful as that” - and i think you can guess where it went from there... :)
 dream (ceo and employee romance):  - AKAIAKAKAHAKH TELL ME YOU SEE THE VISION - i mean hes a ceo alr so its like one step in the door you know - anyway hes a ceo - bro wears those fancy ass suits everyday and has like a wine cellar mini fridge shit thing in his office  - any way you pull up to his headquarters one day for like an interview and you were so fucking nervous  - you ran into him in the elevator (and no clue who he was) - and you basically vented to him for the 30 second elevator ride before scurrying off to your interview - bro didnt even get dreams name or anything - he kinda just smiled and wished you well as you ran away  - he thought you were so cute  - and you thought dude was hot as fuck  - anyway you got the JOB!! LETS GOO - the next day, your supervisor is like taking u around showing u the works - ....and you meet the ceo - its dream - and youre like :0 and he’s like  *smirk wink* ;) “hey” - and youre like “well fuck hes the ceo i cant be in love with him” - and you avoid him - but he makes it his life’s mission to get on ur radar - in the break room, in ur cubicle, in the cafeteria, in the parking lot man is ON YOU LIKE A MOTH TO A LIGHT - eventually he convinces you to go to fancy dinner - and WOW hes paying?? so that shit was FIREEEE - fancy wagyu steak and 102379182 year old wine i mean cmon - it was good ok - he asks you out after dinner and assures u ur job wont be at risk and everything - ba da bing ba da boom  - now youre dating happily and he spoils the FUCK outta you  - lmk if you want this one as a big fic with dialogue
george (neighbors): - tell me why whenever i have my delulu daydreams with george he’s always a neighbor - very much boy next door vibes - omg HES YOUR COLLEGE ROOMMATE NEXT DOOR - stoppppp - on move in day he pulls up with his family and u with urs and youre like - “hi ! nice to meet you im so exicted to move in!” and bros like “same!” - sometimes hes loud bc hes talking to his friends but you dont mind - hes a cs major and ur  whatever u want major - one day you decided to start singing  rlly loud while cleaning - ur singing taylor swift - and then george could hear you from the room next door to yours - so he writes up a little post it note that was like “loved the concert! when’s the next one?” and stuck in on your door - you found it and started mad blushign - you had a crush on him since day one awwww - anyways you two started communicating via post it notes and songs played loudly through the walls <3 - till one day you hear boyfriend by big time rush - and then you play girlfriend by avril lavigne back - and then he slips you a post it note under the door and you open the door before you could read it  - and its an unspoken like thing that you start dating - its so romantic how you can saw you guys starting dating because of taylor swift !!
quackity (academic rivals): - DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THIS TROPE IT BRINGS ME LIFE ALRIGHT - alright - two law school students FIGHTING IT OUT ACADEMICALLY - you guys met in ur freshman year english class or some shit - clashed together in a discussion group - and its been game on since then - your texts with each other are flaunting texts - “hey alex, guess who got a 97 on the last midterm?” - “guess who got a 99 ;)” - over time, the texts started getting more and more hostile - people started to thing you two actually hated one another’s guts  - but in reality it was more for the thrill - but this continued throughout your law school careers - and you both become successful lawyers in the end!! - and when the headmaster calls you both into his office and says - “youre both valedictorian! congrats! you have to give a speech together” - well its like all the hatred faded away - you grinned and cheezed at each other before giving each other the biggest hug ever - so you both wrote a speech together - and soon the day of graduation came - and q goes at the end “i wouldn’t be here without the person who motivated me through it all, so thank you (y/n)” and youre like “hey man *sob* wtf *sob” - and you kiss him on the cheek and cheer to all the graduates  - after the ceremony he catches up to you in the parking lot, grabbing your wrist before you could go off with ur family - and blurts out word soup - and ur like what - and hes like “i really like you, and law school wouldn’t have been the same without you. can we be more than friends?” - and youre like “duhhh” and kiss him right there karl (best friends to lovers): - YOU ARE IN LOVE BY TAYLOR SWIFT  - that is the song for this SCENARIO - you two met when you were little kids in like first grade - your friends werent there on that day so you hung out with each other - hooked to the other since then and there - it was always “karl and you” and “you and karl” - you came as a packaged deal - through ups and downs you were there together - you graduated high school together and were going to the same college together now - while karl barely got into any romantic relationships, you seemed to be going through a few of them  - you were desperate for a love connection and honestly i aint blaming u - one day after a horrible date he came over to your dorm and u had an impromptu sleepover - you were in karls old shirt and some pajama pants and he was in his pajamas - and you two were just watching a movie together - before he turns to you abruptly, and you turn to look at him - and he’s like “you’re my best friend”  - and you saw a switch flip in him - since then, the dynamic between you two changed (for the better) - you became more flirty more touchy  - you started to act like you were a couple more and more - one day you saw him open his wallet to pull out his card  - and u saw that he has a picture of the two of you in his wallet - and then you knew that he was it for you - you ask him out that night - and hes so happy hes picking you up and spinning you around - <3 wilbur (musician x fan trope): - okay this is inspired by those tik toks that are like “did you see the way he looked at me” and its harry styles staring and eyeing down a fan in the audience like YES - and he’s a musician so it fits! - imagine lovejoy is like a HUGE HUGE Band so maybe this is in the future - anyways you and ur friend go to a lovejoy concert - for the sake of the story, youre not that big a fan of lovejoy just familiar with hits like sex sells and one day - the whole time ur friend is like “theyre so good hes so good its all so good” - you two end up a few rows from barricade  - and you and ur friend start screaming it up as you should - youre not oblivious to the way the lead singer keeps looking over in your direction, winking and smiling - imagine a sweaty, singing wilbur glancing over at you during sex sells and giving you a smile as he rasps out “you know sex sells i know that” - brb ascending to heaven - anyway a time comes when he stops to speak to the audience - he wastes no time - he struts over to your side of the stage and points at you  - “what’s your name?” - and you scream it at him - “what a lovely name!” - the crowd cheers - “ahre you single?” he asks with a grin on his face - the grin grows when u nod at him - “give me ur number!?” he asks and you nod at him as ur friend is dying next to you - he gestures u and ur friend to the front of the stage by the barricade  - and he passes you a marker and make syou WRITE YOUR NUMBER ON HIS GUITAR OR HIS SHIRT OR SOMETHING - oh yeahh go you go you thank yoU! let me know if you want any of these to become a bigger story/imagine and LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART 2 WITH OTHER PEOPLE :D reblogs appreciated
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ateliersss · 5 months
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Where Do You Think You're Going?
Pairing: Vladimir Makarov x Fem!Reader Summary: You try to leave him... Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Abusive and Toxic Behavior, English isn't my first language Word Count: 2.283
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"And where exactly do you think you're going, moya dorogaya?" He asked, in that terrifying calm, cold voice you've become so familiar with.
The voice that now sent a shiver down your spine and instilled a sense of dread deep in your gut used to make you feel at the top of the world.
You and Makarov had been a couple for almost five years now, but recently he had become dangerously possessive and overprotective, making you almost suffocate in the invisible grip he had you in.
You bit down on your lower lip, but you didn't stop grabbing your clothes from the closet of your shared bedroom to throw them into your suitcase lying on the king-size bed.
"Away." You simply answered him.
Makarov's demeanor shifted instantly, from indifferent and collected to a cold but calm fury.
He chuckled in that unforgiving tone of his. "And where are you off to?"
He leaned against the door frame of your bedroom, tall and imposing, blocking your way to escape the room should you zip up your suitcase and grab it to leave.
"Anywhere. Primarily away from you." You answered curtly and walked over to your vanity table to collect your perfumes, cremes and lotions.
"And why would you want to get away from me?" Makarov asked as he watched you pack your stuff into the small toiletry bag, your back turned to him.
You ignored him.
His grimace turned into a sinister snarl at your lack of an answer before he pushed himself away from the door frame and moved towards you, towering over you, making his presence felt in a very deliberate and intimidating manner.
He wrapped his arms around your middle section from behind and pressed his torso to your back, leaning down for his lips to reach your ear.
"Don’t you love me? You do love me, don’t you?” He asked, his tone low.
Your movements came to a halt, your head slowly looking up to see both of your reflections in the mirror of the vanity.
Although his head was turned down for his mouth to reach your ear, his eyes pierced yours in the mirror. They looked menacing and warningly at you. It sent shivers down your spine and forced you to look away.
"Of course I love you... but I just can't do this anymore." You said, your throat dryer than the Sahara desert.
"Why?" Makarov questioned softly, his lips mere millimeters away from your ear.
His arms around you, hugging your stomach, tightened in a painful way, which knocked air out of your lungs. His breath tickled the edge of your neck.
"Do you not enjoy being pampered and spoiled with big gifts and expensive things? Do you not enjoy being treated like a princess? Like a queen?"
That was his usual way of manipulation when he noticed even the slightest form of resistance coming from you; guilt tripping and gaslighting.
As he watched your reflection in the mirror, he took in how vulnerable and small you appeared, which gave him a sense of resurance.
"Did you not like it when we went shopping and you spend my money on nice, pretty things? Or when I took you to those lavish parties and showed you off to those disgusting, perverted associates of mine who lusted after you and gave you their undevided attention? Or when I made love to you for hours anywhere, any time?"
When you wouldn't reply again, one of his hands shoot up to grab your chin and push it up surprisingly soft so your eyes would meet in the mirror.
"Answer me."
You let out a sigh and looked defiantly at his reflection. "Of course I love it, but that's not the point."
You had a hard time to speak since his arm, which was still wrapped around your middle, exerted a tight pressure on your belly and made it hard for you to breathe properly.
"I'm thankful for everything you do for me. I enjoy the expensive things, the vacations, the way you finance my hobbies, but... but that's not the reason I fell in love with you."
"Hm, enlighten me then." Makarov replied, his arm easing their tight hold on your stomach, allowing you to breathe easier again.
"What exactly was the reason?"
"I fell in love with you because you were you. You treated me like no man before, even though with your reputation. You are different around me, not much but enough to make me feel special."
You shook you head with a sigh.
"But why do you have to lock me into a golden cage like a bird?"
Makarov chuckled like you were a stupid little child who still didn't understand a simple thing although he had explained it a dozen times already.
"I do this because I want you all to myself, moya dorogaya." He whispered into your ear, his words erupting a warm tingle in your belly.
He stroked your hair out of your face.
"I also do this to protect you from danger." He added, his voice soothing. "I don't want the world to snatch the only thing that brings me joy."
Makarov planted a kiss on your temple which almost made you melt.
"The world can be a dangerous place for a beautiful, delicate flower like you."
"I can take care of myself, Vladimir. You know that." You scoffed.
"I don't doubt that. You are smart and gorgeous and determined, but you're also naive, moya dorogaya. You have no idea what my enemies would do to you if they knew that you existed and where you were."
Nothing, but the harsh truth in Makarov's words.
"So, I think I know better what's good for you than you do."
He kissed you again, this time on your cheek, which made it harder for you to remain stern as the familiar sensation of his lips on your skin were so distracting.
His fingers left your chin and slowly traced down your arm, leaving light goosebumps on your skin.
"Who knows what will happen if I ever let you go out alone."
Another way of manipulating you; scaring you with the harsh consequences that come with being with such a dangerous man like Makarov while also soothing you with sweet words and gentle caresses.
But you didn't plan to give in.
"You could accompany me, or send one or two of your best men with me. I can't stay in this house any longer, Vladimir. It's either that..."
A deep breath, your eyes glancing to the suitcase on your bed in the mirror.
"Or I'll leave you for good."
The corners of his lips curled up into a cruel smile.
Before you could even blink an eye, he had his hand wrapped around your thoat, blocking you air ways.
With panic widdened eyes, you reached up to grab his wrist and dig your manicured nails into his skin, which didn't make Makarov falter for a second.
"No other man will ever be able to make you as happy or as fulfilled as I do. All the gifts I gave you, all the diamonds and pearls I put on your pretty fingers and deliacte neck, all the dresses and shoes I bought you, all the vacations I took you on, and all the sweet words I speak to you and you threaten to leave me…"
He laughed in that arrogant and self-assured way that made your skin crawl while his cold eyes never left yours.
"If you ever decided to leave me, moya dorogaya, I would hunt you down and make you regret the day that you were born."
You wanted to reply, wanted to plead with him to let you go so you could breathe again, wanted to say anything at all, but the only sound that left your mouth was a high-pitched groan.
You quickly grew lightheaded, the corners of your view starting to blur and darken.
Makarov's smile widened as he watched the losing focus of your eyes.
He took a sadistic joy in controlling the situation, took a sadistic joy in the fact that he was in charge, took a sadistic joy in the fact that he was terrifying you.
He wanted you to feel the consequences of standing up to him.
But there was also a part of him that was only reserved for you, his darling, which made him loosen his grip, allowing you to breathe again. In an instant, you eagerly took big gulps of air into your lungs.
"I've treated you with nothing but love and respect, moya dorogaya. I would expect the same in return."
When enough oxygen returned to your brain, you looked at his reflection. Although you wouldn't admit it, you were thankful that he was standing behind you, holding you up, because you doubt your legs were stable enough to hold your whole weight on their own.
"My love for you is unconditional. There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, you know that." He continued.
With his hand still on your throat, his long pale fingers still wrapped around it, he pulled your body flush against his. He pressed the side of his head against yours so he could whisper into your ear.
"But..." He started, "I expect the same level of commitment and devotion in return."
Still keeping his gaze locked on your shared reflection in the mirror, he placed a soft kiss on your ear shell.
"I want you to remember that every time you consider disobeying me, moya dorogaya... every time you even think about leaving this house just for a second..."
His gripped around your throat tightens again.
"Or even considering leaving me..."
He inhaled deeply the rose scent of your shampoo, the sweet aroma of your perfume, before he chuckled as his lips brushed against your ear again.
"It won't happen with you being alive."
You could feel it deep inside you, your heart cracking.
Who was this man?
Because you certainly didn't recognize the Vladimir who had looked at you in annoyance but also slight amusement when you had tripped over nothing and had spilled his drink into his lap.
You didn't recognize the Vladimir who would have had punished any other person that wasn't you for ruining his suit, but instead had asked for your name and what your favorite drink was.
You didn't recognize the Vladimir who had send the strange men sitting with him away with one simple wave of his hand just so he could talk to you throughout the rest of the night although you were still working.
You didn't recognize the Vladimir who had visited the bar you were working at more frequently after that.
(You had never questioned, never even thought about it, why your boss never had said anything when you stopped working just so you could talk to and drink with this handsome man.)
You didn't recognize the Vladmir who had sent dozen of roses to your small and shabby apartment. Although you had been creeped out that he knew where you had lived and that he had broken in so easily, the emotion you had felt at such a pricey and romantic gesture had been bigger.
Where was that Vladimir?
It was as if you had fallen deeply in love with a completely different version of Vladimir Makarov, one that didn't exist anymore.
Or had never existed in the first place.
The man you had fallen in love with was caring, sweet, affectionate and respectful.
But there was no trace of these positive characteristics in the Vladimir Makarov standing right behind you, with his hand around your neck and his thumb pressing on your pulse point.
"You understand me, moya dorogaya?"
With tears prickling in your eyes, you nodded.
There's a tinge of regret in his voice as he replied, "Good girl."
Even though he was a man of violence and terror, he didn't enjoy to seriously harm the only person on this planet that brought him happiness.
But to keep you forever, he had to do certain things even though he didn't like it. If scaring you into submission was the only way of keeping you for himself, he wouldn't hesitate.
He squeezed your throat one last time as a warning, before he harshly let go of you.
The force of him letting you go yanked you forward. You couldn't catch yourself with your hands in time, resulting in your upper body crashing against your vanity and your forehead smashing against the mirror.
You cried out in pain.
The sound of distress tugged painfully on his heart strings, but Makarov fought against the urge to check on you or even apologize.
When he noticed your hands reaching up to brace themselves on the surface of the vanity table to hoist your body up, he was by your side in a milisecond.
His thighs pressed against the back of yours, his crotch against the swell of your ass. One of his hands gripped your waist to push your hips painfully against the edge of the table, probably bruising your soft skin. His other hand gripped the back of your neck and pinned you down.
"Never ever even utter a word of leaving me again. Okay, moya dorogaya?"
Then, with one last harsh push to underline his words, he let go of you, his jacket swirling as he spun around to leave the bedroom.
He didn't even turn back to look at you one last time, despite you crying out in pain and tears running down your cheeks, and slammed the door shut.
Your sobs penetrated the closed door and followed him down the hall.
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lattaeyongs · 9 months
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the trojan horse (hrj)
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original gif
↳ pairing: huang renjun x reader
↳ word count: 19.6k
↳ genre: royalty!au, historical (late 1700s)!au, arranged marriage!au, heavy angst, fluff, smut
↳ summary: in which the boy you fall in love with isn’t who you think he is.
↳ warnings: character death, political unrest, violence, nudity, explicit sexual content (oral, penetration, switch!renjun, switch!reader, cum play), may contain historical inaccuracies
↳ a/n: influenced heavily by the events of the french revolution.
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1791
Ominously, the large, mahogany doors of the Royal Court open. Two guards tightly grip the arms of a shadow, and as the three slowly approach the center of the room, you realize it is a middle-aged, disheveled, pitiful-looking man who wouldn’t put up much of a fight against the guards anyway.
Across a large table sit the Members of the Royal Court. They include some barons and earls, along with religious leaders. Your father, the King, sits at the center, looking especially royal in his brand-new purple robes, and you sit by his side, your fingers intertwined together neatly.
“Order!” Your father announces loudly to the Court. The barons and lords’ chatters die, and the room is silent. 
“Name?” Asks the King. 
“Kim Donghyun,” the man says. He is practically just skin and bones, and it makes you think about how you’ve never gone a day without having three exquisite meals. 
You guiltily avoid his gaze; he doesn’t notice. His attention is toward the King. Due to the days of sitting in a dungeon in utter darkness waiting for his trial and sentencing, he has to blink a few times to get adjusted to the bright light in the Court. 
“What is your crime?” 
Kim Donghyun takes a deep breath. You observe him intently, and you notice how he is practically quaking in fear at being in front of the King. The only time a peasant like him would ever be graced with the presence of the King is when it is nothing good at all. 
Being tried in front of the Royal Court constitutes as ‘nothing good at all.’  
“Theft,” he says in a small voice. At his fear, the King looks at him in disdain. Kim Donghyun knows that his time is limited, and he won’t die without a shred of dignity.
He raises his voice. “I did it for my family.” 
“Only describe the crime,” the King interjects.
“I work in the farming district. In an apple orchard. Instead of turning over all the apples I collected to the cart that takes it to distribution centers, I kept some hidden in my home.” 
The King turns to look at the rest of the Court and discusses quietly, avoiding your gaze. You’re able to make out some words, such as ‘sin’ and ‘infestation of the poor,’ but you don’t interact. Of course, he ignores you, as if you don’t have an opinion. As the only woman on the Court, you were only there after you convinced (more like begged) your father. Deciding a man’s fate wasn’t apt work for a royal woman, whose responsibilities lie in producing a legitimate, male heir for the Kingdom after your father chooses your husband, who is the next in line to the throne – not you, who is your father’s own flesh blood and has a right to the throne. You told your father that Queen Elizabeth I more almost three hundred years ago took the throne of England and ruled through a golden age, dismantling your father’s claim that women weren’t fit to rule, but your father argued that was why England didn’t have a direct, legitimate heir, and why England fell into turmoil after Queen Elizabeth’s death in 1603.
“There is only one suitable punishment for thieves,” The King says in a sure, kingly voice. You gulp harshly. You knew the next words that would come out of his mouth, after sitting in the Royal Court’s proceedings, which all practically ended the same way, no matter how big or small the offense is. He doles out this punishment like it’s nothing. There used to be other punishments for thieves such as cutting off their hands, but the only places those punishments are described in history books.  
“Death by The Dragon’s Fang!” Your father declares. Through the ornately decorated window, you see the chopping block where executions take place. The Dragon’s Fang, the family sword that has been an important symbol of Justice in your Kingdom, cuts cleanly across the neck of whoever has done the Kingdom of Ambrosia wrong. Sharpened every day by the Executioner, it never gives anything but a decisive end to someone’s life. 
“Please,” the man pleads. The chains around his wrists rattle as he folds his hands together tightly in desperation. The two guards accompanying him hold him even tighter, creating small impressions on his skinny body, but your father gestures for them to let go of Kim Donghyun. He falls to his knees, tears forming at the rims of his eyes. 
You’ve sat through hundreds of proceedings, and every single one of them rips a new hole in your heart.
“I never intended to steal,” he explains. “My family, we’re starving. Starving!” He screams in anguish. The guards come closer to him but do not hold him like they once did; desperate this man is, but not desperate enough to run.
“It’s no excuse,” the King says firmly. 
“I had to do it. Come to the farming district yourself! We’re all suffering before dying of starvation and disease. Reeking dead bodies are everywhere and we have no medicine and no food! How are we supposed to live?”
At his anguished voice, you decide that you’re not going to let this be yet another proceeding that you will watch and do nothing about the result. After all, this is supposed to be your kingdom in the future, not your future husbands, even though it doesn’t seem like that.
“He’s right,” you say. Stunned gasps echo through the room. Not a single member of the Royal Court has second-guessed any of the King’s decisions. But you do not let that affect the firmness in your voice.
“How are the working class supposed to serve us if we cannot give them enough resources to live?” You spin it another way. You don’t truly mean what you say, only giving the situation in this light in order for your father to understand; he only understands when things affect him; the rest of the Court are the same way, almost medically unable to expand their cold, selfish hearts to show a little compassion. 
“If we show mercy to this one man,” your father says patiently, “then others will start doing the same thing. We need to make an example of the misdeeds of this man, to prevent further law-breaking.” Your father knows of your compassion for others, an un-queenly trait that he thinks you will outgrow when you get a little more experience with royal affairs, the only reason why he let you take part in the proceedings of the Royal Court. Being that you’re only a child, twenty years old, you have not the same maturity as a seasoned King. But to you, it’s not just a phase.
Whatever happened to the great leaders of yesteryear who knew when to show compassion and when to rule with an iron fist? Your father’s ruthless punishments are what earned him the title of ‘The Mad King’ by the commoners, according to the King’s spies (aptly called his ‘Ears’) everywhere. It is even rumored that the Resistance, an organization whose goal is to destroy the royal family, is real. After hearing about the American Revolution and the Revolution in France, common people hold out hope for a democracy, where everyone’s voices are heard. The writings of Thomas Paine and John Locke started circulating in the Kingdom of Ambrosia and have stirred up more political unrest than what could be imagined.
Your father afterward made it his mission to find every copy of Common Sense and Two Treatises of Government and burn them, as well as execute anyone with a physical copy of those books. He could not have that sort of insolence from his subjects. However, that did nothing; the words were still in peoples’ minds, spreading to others orally, and who knows how many illegitimate copies there are, the words printed on cloth or in their minds? This made people want to get bootlegged copies even more. If the commoners had enough food on the table and compassionate leaders, then their cries for revolution are quieter. If the Gods chose you to be a ruler, then that means that the Gods see leadership potential in your lineage, and you should follow that.
“I’m not saying to spare Kim Donghyun any punishment,” you explain cooly with your hands in your lap in a lady-like fashion, just as your governess taught you when you were little. “There are other means of punishment which will get the point across.”
“Other means of punishment?” Your father echoes in a tone that makes you feel small. “Stealing is a sin and sins are punishable by death.” 
“Can’t he get a whipping? I’m sure that he learned his lesson. He’s frightened to death and needs to feed his –”
“Quiet, girl!” The King declares. Instantly, you feel your father’s palm connect with your cheek, and a stinging sensation burns your skin. This immediately makes your tear ducts tingle with the need to let hot tears roll down your cheeks, but you will not let the Royal Court see you as a little girl being chastised by her father.
You are a young woman and one that is to be the future queen at that.
At the way you take a painful slap, Kim Donghyun meets your gaze with a resigned, yet thankful look at your efforts. He already knows that in a few short minutes, his blood will be pooling on the floor in the adjacent room.
“The Royal Court here rules that Kim Donghyun is sentenced to death by the Dragon’s Fang.” He bangs the gavel against the table loudly, glancing at you before locking gazes with Kim Donghyun. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t scream. He knew he took a massive risk with those apples. He only wished that he stole more because the look of satisfaction when his wife and children ate was intoxicating. 
The two guards grab Kim Donghyun’s elbows before escorting them out of the Royal Court and into the next room. The window gives a clear view of the large chopping block stained with dry, brown blood where Kim Donghyun is supposed to lean, his knees on the floor, his neck and the edge of the block lining up. Then, the Executioner takes the Dragon’s Fang and raises it above his head. He doesn’t close his eyes at the sight he is about to see, a ritual he has performed thousands of times, only asking the victim for any last words, as you can tell from seeing this proceeding many times. Kim Donghyun says something, but you are not sure what. Then, the Executioner swings the sword, and Kim Donghyun crumbles to the ground in two parts after a sickening crunch (that you’ve heard so many times, it echoes in your head).
You think you’re going to be sick.
-
Just like there were many court proceedings before the trial of Kim Donghyun, there are many afterward. The Resistance is growing larger, according to the King’s Ears, and is ready to plan something large. Normally, your father would not tolerate this insolence against the royal family. He would have liked to nip it in the bud and hang the bodies of all the rebels in front of the streets to make an example out of them, but the King is running into a huge problem: he is close to bankruptcy. He barely has enough resources to pay guards and mercenaries to protect the current palace, as well as cooks and maids and servants. He doesn’t have enough resources to pay for a large army and create a special task force to get rid of the rebels. After spending his money on clothes and shoes, brand new wings of the palace and concubines, he was spending money faster than he was receiving it. 
Obviously, you knew that this was a serious problem, and it was information that select people had access to; Royal advisors were trying their best to make sure that this information was kept under a tight lid and wouldn’t find its way to the Resistance. Royal advisors suggested that the King find a source of needed materials without raising taxes yet again, and that’s where you come to play. Your father arranged for you to meet a suitor to set up a much-needed marriage alliance.
Today, you would be meeting the Prince of Neo, Huang Renjun. Neo is a small kingdom a few days journey from you by the sea, and they are known for their ample craftsman class who commission some of the finest weapons. They are also a source of skilled fighters, and they will be more likely to ship off their people and provide resources to Ambrosia if they have a suitable marriage alliance.
As much as you hated being auctioned off like an antique vase, it was something that couldn’t be helped as a royal woman. You only hope that this Huang Renjun isn’t like the other suitors you have met, who are snooty and stuck up, ruthless as if they are miniature versions of your father. More importantly, you wish that they won’t cast you aside, using you as a pawn to get their hands on the better prize, the Kingdom of Ambrosia, the largest kingdom in the area.
There’s already tension in the air when you are escorted by your mother and lady’s maids into the drawing room where you first lay eyes on Huang Renjun.
His raven-colored hair is neatly gelled and combed, and his skin is pale in contrast. He stands up politely at your presence, and you get a good look at his clothing: rich, exactly what you expect for a royal from another kingdom. He wears red robes with delicate, intricate yellow designs, and you suspect the material is velvet. He has white frills at his neck, and milky white socks that compliment the black shoes at his feet, which have a gold flower at the center of the foot to match the gold designs on his robes. 
You’re thankful that the suitor you’re meeting is actually in the same age range as you, but it’s an additional bonus that he’s one of the most beautiful men you’ve met without even trying.
He is also observing you with the same tenacity as you do with him: You’re wearing a crown of pink flowers on your head, which matches the pink flowers on your sky-blue dress. Your skirt is large and trails at your behind, which shows your royal standing, and the sky-blue sleeves of your dress slowly become white lace as his eyes follow from your shoulders to your wrists. The sleeves of your dress are cone-like, and the edges are able to reach your knees. 
For a few seconds, you meet Renjun’s gaze. His eyes are a beautiful dark brown, and they offer you a friendly look, which puts your heart at slight ease. 
“Princess Y/N, this is Prince Renjun of Neo,” your mother introduces in a voice that makes it seem like she has known Prince Renjun for a long time (which she hasn’t).
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Highness,” Renjun says. His voice is absolutely magnificent, song-like, and dreamy. He steps forward and bends down on one knee, taking your right hand and kissing the back of it. 
His lips feel warm against your skin. 
There are a few other men by Renjun’s side. There are his personal guards, who came with him on the carriage ride from his castle to yours, and another man in fine clothing, someone you failed to notice due to your observant study of Huang Renjun. 
“And this is the King of Neo,” your mother continues, gesturing. He bows down and takes the time to bend down and kiss your mother’s hand (which has her bubbling with pleasant words) and your hand, which you give a curt greeting. His black robe shuffles as he steps back, and you study Renjun side-by-side with his father. 
“Pleased to meet you, Your Highnesses,” he says. 
A few maids come in bearing silver trays piled with bite-sized sandwiches, in the shape of a pyramid. You and your mother take one, while Renjun and his father take one each, all four of you being overly courteous to the help in an effort to keep appearances. 
“Your daughter looks like a lovely young lady, perfect for my Renjun,” the King of Neo comments, giving your mother a gracious smile. “So elegant and full of grace, she will make a fine queen and wife, Your Highness,” he addresses your mother. 
“Thank you for your kind words,” Your mother responds back, her eyes crinkling as a part of her practiced genuine smile. “May I escort you to the King? He has some matters that he would like to discuss with you.” 
“Of course, my good lady,” the King of Neo responds back courteously. Your mother leads the way out of the room, and a few maids look like they are going to follow her, to make sure that she is okay, but she only needs to give a flick of her wrist for them to disperse back into the drawing room. Now, you and Renjun are alone, except for the help, but they don’t count. You’re grateful that your mother has left you both alone because you absolutely hate being chaperoned during meets with suitors – it makes you more nervous having that extra company. That just shows how important this alliance is for the Kingdom that your mother understands your weakness and tries to put you on the best possible foot to make a good performance for Huang Renjun.
Performance. The word has the connotation relating it to a game, which is what this whole suitor business is. 
“Please have a seat,” you say to Renjun, gesturing at the plush pink-and-green sofa that he abandoned when you entered the room. There is a small ottoman opposite of the sofa, and there is a glass table in between with the pyramid of sandwiches that the maid brought a few minutes ago. You’re ready to bring up something about the weather and other practiced lines you have prepared for occasions like this when something catches your eye on the table, a leather-bound book. It is a copy of The Oresteia by Aeschylus. You remember reading it back when you were still taught by a governess. 
“Excellent choice,” you start off, gesturing to the volume on the table.
Renjun smiles at you, a pretty sight just as beautiful as his voice. 
“Thank you. You have a wonderful library, larger than the one I have at home,” he says in awe. The library room is in the next room, and it is dark and paneled with fine wood; it would not be a good choice to meet a suitor, for it is a major turn-off if a woman is too well-educated, enough that she would love books more than making an heir for the family.
Personally, the library room is your favorite room in the house.
“You don’t have Oresteia in your library?”
“No,” Renjun says sheepishly. “It’s been on my list of books to read for a long time, but I just haven’t had the chance to get a copy with all the suitors my father forc–” Renjun suddenly stops, realizing who he is talking to. His face turns into a bright beet red, thinking that he has messed up more than he ever thought he could.
Your face doesn’t shrivel with offense the way Renjun thought it would. He met a royal woman once who after he said he didn’t like blueberry scones, escorted him out of her castle. Instead, he is greeted by a smile. You experienced the same feeling.
“It’s okay,” you say lightly. “I wasn’t exactly that happy to meet you too.” You’re glad that your mother isn’t chaperoning, or anyone in your Court is either because hearing those words from your mouth would earn you a slap across your face. ‘A lady isn’t supposed to tell someone what she thinks,’ you can hear your mother’s and governess’ voices ringing in your ears (they practically had the same voice… all high-class women had a high pitch, sultry yet innocent voice). 
Renjun finds your words refreshing; this is the first time he’s met a royal who actually says what she thinks, and that sort of directness is what he craves in someone – he hates having to analyze every little word in a woman’s sentence in order to find out what she truly means.
“How far are you?” You ask. 
“Not very,” Renjun sighs. “I wished you came later so I would have had more time to read.” You titter a little, and Renjun is glad that he is able to see a real, genuine smile from you.
“But Clytemnestra has just killed King Agamemnon and Cassandra.” You nod, remembering yourself all those years ago holding this same volume. You’re trying to think of something to say that will contribute to the conversation when Renjun’s voice becomes lower. 
“Do you think he deserved it?” 
Initially, you’re not sure if you should answer the question. On one hand, you do want to answer the question because you can’t believe that you have a suitor who wants to intelligently discuss literature with you, a complete dream that you can’t believe is happening in real life, but there is another part of you that wants to follow your mother’s advice she gave you a long time ago when it came to meeting suitors: to not let him know too much about your opinions too early. 
“I apologize,” Renjun says hesitantly. He just broke all rules when it comes to meeting suitors. He is also not supposed to ask questions like these. Questions like “what are your favorite sweets?” or “what is your favorite city?” are more appropriate for someone you just met. 
“You don’t have to,” you say more confidently. “I think I understand Clytemnestra’s fury. Imagine finding out that your daughter was sacrificed so that your husband can help his brother get his wife back. There’s a line that has to be drawn between your family and someone else’s family, and Agamemnon failed to do so. Menelaus had other allies from various kingdoms that could help him, and Agamemnon could help in other ways than sacrificing his eldest daughter to Artemis. But Iphigenia only had Agamemnon. She was his daughter. He was supposed to protect her. He wasn’t supposed to auction her off to her death. So he must pay with his life,” you explain rationally.
Renjun is pretty sure that you’re not only talking about Oresteia anymore. And he’s right. Maybe you feel a little like Iphigenia, but the free will that you are sacrificing is for the good of your kingdom and not someone else’s. 
After your father overspent his money, even after charging ridiculously high tax rates and has no means to quell the Resistance by force. 
The way you passionately discussed literature was endearing to Renjun. He didn’t want to be stuck with a bimbo for the rest of his life, who was only interested in parties and pleasure. You have substance. 
The two of you continue to discuss other Ancient Greek literature since much of the literature includes myths that are implicitly referenced in other works that people in those days would have understood. The conversation is entertaining, and you freely give your opinion and Renjun does the same, and you appreciate the candidness more than anything in the world.
“I’m glad for one thing,” you say during the conversation.
Renjun raises an eyebrow. 
“That the Greek Gods don’t meddle in our lives.” 
-
Sometimes, just sitting around in the castle got boring – no, a lot of times, just sitting around in the castle got boring. You didn’t have much of a say in the Royal Court and you didn’t have much of a say in royal decision-making either, so you decided a few years ago that there would be something that you would have control over. 
Every weekend, you went into the cities of your Kingdom and practiced healing with the royal healer. A maximum of four people knew about this, and you wanted to keep it that way because if your family found out about this arrangement, they would serve your head on a platter. But so far, no one unnecessary knew about this. The royal healer, the cart driver, and your head maid were the only people who knew. It was your way to give back to the kingdom since so many were dying of diseases or were injured and lamed forever, and these tragedies could be avoided if there was a better spread of healthcare across the kingdom. 
Your head maid has clothes prepared for you, a maid’s outfit that you go into town wearing. With how the people feel about the royal family now that the Resistance is trying to spread their message, it was better if your deeds went unsaid; you didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention to yourself, or else the people in your care could get hurt.
So here you are, sitting in a prepared cart filled with medicine, along with the royal healer. The hot late-summer sun burns your shoulders as you sit, but you’re glad you’re only wearing a maid’s outfit and not the eight different skirts you have to wear all day as a royal; wearing all that clothing in this heat is the definition of hell on Earth. 
Maybe you’re being dramatic when you say that because when you see the capital city, Ciel, it certainly looks like hell on Earth. A little part of you is glad that you’re safely tucked away in your castle in the countryside because you’re not sure you could ever bear calling what is now Ciel, home. Sick people decorate the well-trodden streets, orphaned children scour waste for food, wails of anguish fill the air as people cry over the dead, and the stench – oh, the stench! How pungent and repelling it is, you almost want to gag. Thankfully, you have a flower from the royal gardens tied to your wrist, and you harshly press the flower against your nose, breathing in the fresh scent.
But the saddest thing on the street is the people who are wholly unaffected by all the events happening. They are residents no doubt, with tattered, stained breeches that have probably never seen a wash, but the resigned look on their faces is what breaks your heart into a thousand more pieces. They accept that this is how life is going to be. These people are usually able to hide among the crowds of people, but to you they stick out like a sore thumb.
Speaking of people, there seems to be less than there was last week. Everything seems a tad quieter, and people don’t seem to be sporting angry, belligerent looks on their faces against the royals, just the resigned, sick, and anguished seem left.
But this doesn’t stop you from setting up shop. With the royal healer Doyoung, you both find an abandoned building – a building that you have kept under a different name using some royal funds you’re able to get out of your father’s hands – and set up medicines, table cloths, bandages, and other tools needed to properly heal the masses. After seeing your appearances, people start coming in. It was an unspoken thing with the people of Ciel, the most poverty-stricken people in your kingdom, living in shanty towns because the capital is where all the work is. It spread around to others that a healer and his assistant would come every week to try to relieve them. They didn’t know anything about the healer or the assistant, or why they only came once a week (many people have requested that you and Doyoung make your presence known more often), but you would simply sigh and shrug your shoulders, that you could only ever manage once a week. In your heart, you knew that your family wouldn’t notice you gone for at least six hours in a day, but if you tried six hours in two days, that’s asking for problems. Although, you never say that. 
However, you and Doyoung have trained others in town who want to heal some basic hygiene and herbs that can be found around Ciel, such as poppy seeds for sleeping and ginseng for preventing inflammation of wounds (but sometimes a cure-all for desperate people). However, due to how populated Ciel is, it’s hard to find even find these plants since medicinal plants need care to grow. They aren’t like dandelions that can grow among the trash and ruin. Which is why you and Doyoung bring a decent stock of other plants from the royal medical gardens and teach others how to store them. But even still, basic training and plant stocks are not enough to keep people alive, and many times, you need a trained medical opinion or experience.
As some patients take rest on the blankets that are scattered in this makeshift hospital, other helpers (practically employees) come in as well. 
The first to come is the brother-sister pair, Soobong and Sooyoung. They were always the most punctual, and they live for healing and helping others – with enough medical training, they were good enough to work at the castle.
“Good, you’re here,” Doyoung says brusquely. “More and more people are coming. Sooyoung, ask patients what their ailments are, and Soobong and Y/N, help me unload the stock.” Doyoung commands confidently. 
Kim Doyoung had been at this for a long time, as you notice through his weathered, experienced face. He’s been doing this before you knew about it, and when you caught him, you told him that you would join him or you would tell the King, and he gladly took the former option. Doyoung himself grew up on the streets of Ciel, orphaned, but he met a man who helped him learn the art of healing, and he became a revered healer in Ciel before going to the castle. As much as he loved being generous, most of the people who came to him had no money but were only able to exchange favors. He gladly accepted favors – fresh honey, a wonderful story, a beautiful flower, but he also liked recieving a salary. 
Still, it doesn’t seem like the streets of Ciel were angry with him for wanting to get paid for his skill; they were only thankful that he was generous enough to continue sharing it with them after all these years.
As Sooyoung socializes with the patients, she is courteous as she asks about their ailments. She can take fifty people’s troubles and tell you every single one – she just has that sort of memory. She would write down all the conditions if she knew how to read or write; only now have you taught her how to count, so that she can refer to each patient as ‘patient at blanket number x’ so it is a more efficient way of describing them.
You and Soobong along with Doyoung are going out to the cart and bringing in jars and wrapped packages of medicinal herbs, from marigold to milk thistle to goldenseal.
When the last of this week’s stock is brought in, Sooyoung approaches you and tells you what conditions people have today. 
“The man at blanket thirty is suffering from diarrhea and his wife is very worried about him,” she reports, ending her interactions with all the patients. All of these conditions you’re too familiar with after years of healing. Diarrhea from eating contaminated meat. Cholera from drinking contaminated water. Itchy skin due to a poor personal hygiene regiment. Infection after a metal bucket scraped skin. Sleeplessness after the violent death of a loved one. All of these conditions, you were able to easily escape due to your high status. And you were the one with the best healthcare in the Kingdom after you rarely did anything. When was the last time you picked up a bucket? Or had itchy skin? You live such a good life that half the time, you didn’t need a healer. 
But these people do. And they don’t have a healer.
You, Soobong, and Doyoung crush some marigold leaves for the man with the infection, valerian for the sleepless woman and others, handing the paste to Sooyoung who would administer the herbs to the patients. Thankfully, as more and more sick people came in, more and more help was arriving, including Na Jaemin. 
He and a few others were bringing injured-looking people. You rushed to their sides, helping them out after abandoning the leaves you were crushing. Before Soobong could do anything, Doyoung ordered him to stay and that you and Jaemin were taking care of whatever needed taking care of.
“What happened?” You gasped, carrying the people to empty blankets. Jaemin follows you, carrying a heavy-looking older man. 
“T-There was a riot,” Jaemin says breathlessly. 
“A riot?” You echo dumbly. Jaemin nods. 
“The Carcel,” he says as if he explained the whole story. At your confusion, though, he continues. 
“There was a storming. Weapons were stolen, and the place was trashed before it started burning.” Your blood runs cold. 
The Carcel has served as a fortress, armory, and political prison for as long as you can remember. Erected by your great-great-grandfather to protect the castle – the old castle that your family used to reside in before picking a different, more luxurious location in the countryside that gave plenty of room to expand; that castle burned in an earlier, angry riot. Now it looked eerie in the capital, and it was moderately reconstructed as an armory and a prison for prisoners that your father decided not to kill on the spot before his killing spree started.
Knowing this information, Ambrosia was teetering closer and closer to ruin. You gulp. You thought that if your father gave more freedoms to the people and modernized, there would be a higher chance that you would still be in power for generations to come, or at least… your lives. Now, that hope is all gone. People are angry, and they won’t stop until the Royal Family is gone for good. You know what that means. The people won’t rest until your heads are hacked off by the Dragon’s Fang.
“A-And these are,” you take a deep breath. “Insurrectionists?” You ask. No matter how much sympathy you had to the people of Ambrosia who have been wronged by the royal family, you still feel a chill crawl down your spine
You wonder how Soobong, Sooyoung, and Jaemin would react if they knew your true identity – or anyone in this room except Doyoung knew.
“Not all of them. Some of them were just caught in the crossfire.” 
“What were you doing there?” You ask accusingly. You bite your lip in shame, hating how transparent you seem. Jaemin looks at you with a brow raised. For all he knew, you were just Y/N, a maid to a nobleman who knew Doyoung as a child on the streets of Ciel.
Immediately, you clear your throat. “It could have been dangerous. Are you hurt anywhere?” You ask with concern, taking his bare forearms in your hand to inspect. You furrow your brows at a fresh-looking mark, but it’s just a smudge of red dirt. 
Jaemin smiles. “No. Clean as I’ll ever be.” He chuckled in a hearty way that put all your worries at rest. He continues. “And I was there because my cousin was there. I didn’t want him doing anything stupid, but he wouldn’t listen to me, so I went to watch him.” His expression hardens. “Where his stupidity took him,” he grunts, pointing to another boy carrying a younger boy, maybe fifteen years old, to a bed, with bleeding on his arms and his leg twisted. 
“Jaemin!” A voice shouts. You and Jaemin whip your heads to see Doyoung, still crushing leaves into paste and squeezing the juice out of roots. “I need some help over here. Y/N, work with Sooyoung to get the ailments of the newcomers.” 
“Yes, Doyoung,” you say and shuffle away. To Doyoung’s perceptive eye, he could see slight cuts on your fingers from all the crushing, and he couldn’t possibly return you home like that. So, he gave you a less taxing job. It was a shame though – you were one of his most skilled apprentices.
Sooyoung takes care of half of the newcomers while you take care of the other half. As you ask them what is ailing them and inspect their injuries, you can already see yourself writing a mental list of needed herbs: marigold, garlic, echinacea, aloe vera, poppy seeds. All of these were anti-inflammatory plants with poppy seeds bringing patients to sleep to help cure their wounds. 
But there is a face, an unmistakable face attached to a body that is sitting on a blanket. Despite the contusions on his face and body, as well as his twisted leg at an odd angle, the boy sitting at blanket number thirty-seven is Huang Renjun, Prince of Neo. 
As shock finds its way to settle into your face, so does suspicion. What was Huang Renjun doing in a rebellion against the King of Ambrosia?
Every part of your royal instincts tells you to tread carefully. If Huang Renjun is an enemy, then it’s best to keep that information to yourself so you can give yourself an advantage.
Before you can decide whether you should pretend you don’t know him or acknowledge his existence, Renjun speaks first. 
“Y/N,” he says softly. You look around. Soobong, Jaemin, Sooyoung, and Doyoung all look preoccupied, and the others that you know are hurriedly applying salves to injured people or offering them edible medicine. You didn’t want to explain how you knew this stranger. 
Renjun, like you, is dressed in a commoner’s clothes. He wears a casual set of commoner’s breeches and a faded, light-blue shirt. He has a brown hat next to him that smells oily and full of sweat, and his jet-black hair is disheveled, compared to when you met him. Renjun has been staying at the castle, and your father and his father are trying to strike a favorable deal when it comes to providing an army to quash the Resistance. During the past two days, from what you can hear behind the door, it is a long deal, with both men throwing numbers and getting others to write a contract of this agreement. Renjun has been sitting in the negotiations, to learn the art of negotiation, but you aren’t allowed to sit in. And when they aren’t negotiating, the three of them go hunting together, for your father to get to know the man that will marry his daughter and take over his kingdom. So, you haven’t seen the boy ever since you talked about Aeschylus and other Greek authors and myths together, only seeing him in passing at dinner, which you are almost always joined by the Huangs. Other invitees at dinner seem interested in this stranger, leaving almost no more time for you to know him.
At this moment, your chemistry is undeniable. 
“What are you doing here?” You blurt out. 
Renjun smiles in pain. “I’m injured obviously. But I could also ask the same for you.” He eyes you in your maid’s outfit. 
“I mean, what were you doing at the Carcel?” You inquire. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You see him reach for something, and you tense up. Your instinct thought it was a knife, a plan to kill the Princess of Ambrosia since he is the only one in this crowded room who knows your true identity. 
The object Renjun was reaching for was his dirty messenger bag, and he struggles to open the latch. You take the bag and look inside. Paints, and a smeared painting of roses. You’re not sure if it’s red paint or blood.
“I was painting at the Square.” He says simply. The town square is still a bustling place, in viewing distance to the Carcel, cobblestoned and filled with a rose garden that is sometimes known as the envy of the land, the only place in Ciel that doesn’t look hopeless thanks to various people in the area who consider those roses a part of Ciel’s character. It’s the only greenspace in the center of Ciel, minus a small wooded place two blocks away where helpers gather poppy seeds and milk thistle. 
“I was painting roses since it was the only time I could get away from everything,” Renjun starts. “But then I heard people screaming and there were people with weapons and then a stampede ensued.” Renjun shivers thinking about what happened in the past thirty minutes, and at this movement, his twisted leg twitches and he bites his lower lip to contain a scream.
You’re about to scurry off and get something for the pain, but Renjun grips your wrist tightly, an uneasy smile on his face. 
“You didn’t tell me what you’re doing here.” 
“Isn’t it obvious?” you scoff.
“Enlighten me.”
You take a deep breath. “I’m here as a healer. I come every week with Doyoung.” 
“And I can imagine that it’s not what you’re supposed to be doing?” Renjun asks, knowing what the obvious answer is. 
You don’t answer him. 
“Well, I was here doing what I wasn’t supposed to be doing.” He chuckles. “If my father found out I was painting, he would rip me in half.” Renjun wasn’t lying. The life of a royal was restricting, no matter if you were a man or a woman. For a man, hunting was seen as an appropriate, manly hobby, but painting isn’t.
“Apparently, painting is only for indecent people who ogle naked women and sleep with their muses.” 
You almost want to gasp with how crass Renjun sounded. Renjun only laughs at your shocked expression before sucking in a breath due to his pain. With a wet cloth on a tray nearby, you dab the wounds on his arms, and Renjun’s face contorts at this gesture. 
You hurry back to the shelves of herbs and grab some marigold paste and some thin, bandage cloths. Gently, you apply the salve on Renjun’s wounds and bandage them with a precision that you have been perfecting for a long time. Renjun only focuses on you as he tries to forget about the pain, admiring your expertise. It wasn’t every day that a royal knew a skill that didn’t include commanding others to do tasks for them.
Looking at his awkward leg, you make direct eye contact with Renjun. 
“This is going to hurt a lot,” you say. Rushing to the counter at the front, you grab a stick and give it to Renjun. “Put this in your mouth,” you say in a commanding voice that Renjun doesn’t want to argue with.
Carefully, you hold the side of Renjun’s knee with one hand, and with the other hand, you yank his leg, locking it back into its correct place. 
The twig in Renjun’s mouth snaps during the process. 
“You were right,” Renjun says breathlessly.
“Say,” Renjun says after a while of watching you apply a salve of milk thistle on the cuts on his legs before bandaging them. 
“I won’t tell your father that you were out here healing the poor, not once but weekly with Doyoung unless I get to paint you.” The request is shocking, and you look at Renjun, puzzled for a split second before you make an offer of your own, a smile on your face. If there’s anything a royal is good at, no matter a man or woman, it was negotiating.
“And I won’t tell your father that you were painting unless you come and help out with me here,” you counteroffer. 
“An eye for an eye,” Renjun recalls, remembering how you passionately defended Queen Clytaenmestra for making King Agamemnon to pay for his life after leading his eldest daughter to her death. In this case, one favor each to keep you both doing what you loved doing.
“Yes. This knife cuts both ways,” At how solemn you both sound, you two look each other in the eye to seal the verbal contract that you have just created.
For once, your parents made a good match for you.
-
It’s another few days before you see Renjun again. It’s at dinner, but this time the air of tension, filled with encoded thoughts is gone, and both your father and the King of Neo look jubilant. That can only mean one thing: they both have reached a deal that they are both happy with. It’s surprising, given that at the end of such long deals, one side is unhappy in ‘giving in too much’ while the other believes that they have won a match. 
Nonetheless, dinner is no less than fine. Renjun’s father sits at the end of one table with Renjun at a seat nearby, while your father is seated at the other end of the table, with your mother accompanying you. You sit in between your mother and Renjun, while on the other side, the King’s advisor is facing you directly. Joining you tonight are a couple of earls and marquis who your family has always been particularly close with, enough so to share such an important meal as tonight’s meal. 
“We have some exciting news,” The King of Ambrosia says. You think everyone in the room already knows what the news is due to his expression, but that doesn’t stop him from sharing. 
“King Huang and I have reached a suitable deal. They will provide a sum of armory and mercenaries to help us with our problems with rebels. Just in time after the incident at the Carcel. He has been so agreeable due to the arrangement that Princess Y/N and Prince Renjun have. Our grandchildren will be certainly powerful!” Your father cheers. You smile pleasantly and find Renjun’s face beside you, and he also stares at you with equal fondness. The others in the room are pleased that you two have gotten on well. Although they only know of one meeting between you two, no complaints have been made by either of you against the other. For the two of you, suitors are a touchy subject, and you both have a hard time getting along with others that you are arranged to marry, but this time, it seems like two kindred souls have met. 
Your father’s prayers have been answered; Ambrosia won’t fall to ruin after his overspending. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from having lavish, excessive meals every night while the people of his kingdom are starving. 
King Huang starts speaking. “The King and I have started talking about something to celebrate the upcoming marriage. We have discussed a tourney in Princess Y/N and Prince Renjun’s honor.” 
Your mother claps gleefully, and the King’s advisor looks thoughtful. He hoped that Neo’s resources were in plenty, so he wouldn’t have to impose more taxes. 
Your mother looks at you pointedly for you to make a response, but Renjun speaks first. “On behalf of myself and my betrothed, I thank you both for your generosity.” His voice is crisp, sincere yet formal. He looks at you with a smile. “I’m sure that we both are going to enjoy it.” You both know that if there’s anything that you’d enjoy, it would be a room full of books and paints. 
The servants arrive with plates and plates of food, freshly and expertly cooked by the castle chef. You eat the creamed lobster, poached eggs, meat-stuffed bread, carrot purees, chocolate souffles, and wash it all down with red wine. The table is filled with content eating sounds, the clacking of forks against ornately designed china. 
As the last plate is collected by a kitchen maid, music fills the nearby ballroom. 
“A night like tonight should be celebrated with music!” Your father announces. The dinner party follows him and the King of Neo to the ballroom, where there is a live orchestra filled with the best musicians in Ambrosia. They play waltzing music, so the earls and dukes start dancing with their wives, and their children find people to dance with. 
“May I have this dance?” Renjun is on one knee, his hand held out as he waits for you to accept his invitation. You scoff a little at how ‘noble’ he is acting, compared to the boy painting in secret and stating that he hated meeting suitors. 
“Of course, my betrothed,” you say smoothly, taking the boy’s soft hand. He stands upright, and you look almost eye-level with him. He gingerly puts a hand to your waist and the other clasps your hand as he dances with you. You think that you probably learned to Walz around the same time you learned to walk, and the steps feel familiar as you follow the compound beat. 
“One, two, three, one two three,” Renjun murmurs to himself. If you hadn’t been listening carefully enough, you wouldn’t have heard him count to himself. You only did so when you were a beginner of the walz, counting to make sure that your steps were correctly timed as your dance instructor danced with you. 
You can’t help a giggle bubble up your throat. 
“What’s that?” Renjun asks. 
“What’s what?” You reply, feigning ignorance. 
“I know you heard me.” Renjun confronts you. 
“I’ve never heard anyone our age counting during the Walz.”
“What’s wrong with counting? I like to be precise.” Renjun challenges in that playful way that you can’t get enough of. You exhale. 
“Only children count when they Walz.” 
“Can I make a confession?” Renjun asks. His voice is quiet, and his lips are close to your ear, his breath hot and smelling of spices. At this moment, he looks absolutely ravishing. 
He doesn’t wait for you to reply. “I only learned to Walz last week. Your mother taught me. She thought it was improper that I didn’t know how to dance with a lady.” That did sound like your mother. You take a second to see her dancing with your father in a perfect Walz, from years of hosting and attending events that are similar to this one.
You sigh, bringing your body closer to his and correcting any of his missteps. You loved the way that his body deliciously brushed against yours, and the way that his hand moved down your back, not entirely gentlemanly. You keep your voice quiet, closing some space between your faces. “She knows I don’t care about that.”
“Does she?” Renjun questions. You don’t answer. The royal breed wasn’t exactly the best listeners. There were a lot of ideas that your parents liked to push into your head, such that a woman should be the type devoted to her husband and her life’s work is creating an heir to the throne. And there is one thing for sure: women were supposed to be pure. They didn’t have sexual urges, they were subject to the will of their husbands. 
You’re not going to pretend that thoughts wouldn’t enter your brain as Renjun’s length brushes your leg…  
You and Renjun keep dancing for a few more minutes, but neither of you is really feeling the mood anymore. It’s always a surprise how the upper class can keep dancing and dancing and dancing.
“Does this dance ever end?” Renjun groans. No one seems to hear him, trapped in their own worlds. 
“It does now,” you say. You stop dancing and gently yank Renjun’s arm. Without an eye on either of you, the dull Walz music becomes a distant memory as you both walk into the dark castle corridors. There are a few guards here and there, but you and Renjun walk up the stairs and stop midway through the staircase, on the flat piece of floor that proceeds another swivel staircase. A large window is on the wall, and you can see the moon, a small crescent. 
There’s something so romantic about the dark, something that makes you want to unleash your inner feelings. Huang Renjun is thinking the same thing. 
You can barely see each other’s faces as your lips meld into his. Renjun was different, and you wanted him, you think as you taste his lips from every possible angle, his nose bumping into yours. His hands feel intoxicating as his hands find your waist, his grip deceptively tight as if he never wanted to let go of a woman like you.
At the sound of echoing footsteps, you and Renjun jump away from each other and search for the source of the footsteps. It’s a few guards, and they make brief eye contact with you and then with Renjun. 
You press a quick kiss on Renjun’s lips. It was the perfect time to stop. You haven’t given up your chastity just yet, your dress was still on! Now you would leave him wanting more. It was the strategy your mother gave you when you were meeting suitors, but you can find other ways to keep that statement relevant in your life.
“Until later, my sweet,” you lean in, murmuring those sultry words against his lips. You leave him standing by the large window as you find your way back to your chambers on the other side of the castle, becoming a smaller and smaller shadow in Renjun’s vision.  
-
The next time you would visit the streets of Ciel is sooner than you think, for this week has gone by rather quickly. As per your agreement with Renjun, he would help you out in the makeshift apothecary with Doyoung if you kept his secret that he paints in his spare time. This week, the apothecary is not less active than it was last week since the spread of disease is rampant in these areas, so you’re glad that you’re able to bring some forced labor with you.
Renjun is also dressed in servants’ uniforms, getting it from your lady’s maid, who covertly got this from the washerwoman. However, before you got out of the cart bringing you, Renjun, and Doyoung into the city, you still felt like he had a ‘noble’ look to him. Finding some dirt on the ground, you take a handful and rub it on Renjun’s cheek. 
“There,” you say, admiring your handiwork. “You look more like Y/N the maid’s friend.” Renjun just laughs a hearty, carefree laugh. 
The story behind Renjun was easy to fabricate when you were explaining his presence to Soobong, Sooyoung, and Jaemin. He also worked at the same nobleman’s house that you did but as a server, and he wanted to find out what you were hiding when you disappeared one afternoon every week. You made him swear that he would never tell since you were supposed to be working, and after he promised he wouldn’t tell, you brought him here. Sooyoung looked a little suspicious after you told your story, and you felt like your heart was beating in your throat as you waited for her to say or do anything, that maybe she recognized him from the last week after the storming of the Carcel, but she doesn’t say anything. You were more than relieved. 
She probably didn’t care anyway, given that your group needed more help than you could imagine. More healing apprentices showed up, mixing salves and administering medicines, but most of Ciel has been under strict curfew. After the storming, your father demanded that there be soldiers on the streets, prowling for any rebels, courtesy of the deal made with the King of Neo.
They were given the right to shoot if they even looked dissatisfied with how the people were behaving.
Although you were (somewhat) safely tucked inside the abandoned building that you have been paying to keep as a hospital for the sick of Ciel, you can still feel the tension outside, as if they are waves licking at the windows. People walk stiffly, their eyes darting before they say something, trash litters the ground, hastily-built huts and pieces of wood serve as many peoples’ homes as they inhabit the slums for their work. 
Of course, only when there is dissent are the royals actually thinking of the people of Ciel.
Soldiers stand outside, backs straight, yet some squirm in their thick uniforms under the bright, hot sun. It’s not like they can do anything to an apothecary, so they stand, looking around. The thought of being watched makes you feel almost breathless, and you just hope you don’t look like royalty enough for them to notice. As your heart beats a little faster, you tightly wrap a bonnet you found around your head, focusing your vision only on the sick.
You show Renjun to the table where Doyoung is, and show him how to crush leaves and efficiently save all the healing juice, how to wrap a bandage, how to clean a wound, where to get some water to soak cloths, and where the stores of poppy seeds, milk thistle, and other anti-inflammatory herbs are. Those, you think, are the most important training to learn first. 
Renjun watches as you talk to Sooyoung, the girl who chats with new arrivals and diagnoses their conditions. Then you grab herbs, bandages, and wet cloths and work around the room with the help of Jaemin, who is now administering medicine since Renjun is supposed to be crushing leaves and filling the water bucket.
If you haven’t noticed, life was getting harder at Ciel. Just as you were curing more sick people, more and more people were coming in, needing treatment. Not to mention that not everyone survives treatment; every week, you’re surrounded by death. On top of that, with the current instability in Ciel, Renjun was surprised that you were dead-set on coming with Doyoung because it wasn’t really your job to care. Sure, it wasn’t really Doyoung’s job to care either, but since he grew up in Ciel as an orphan, he always would feel the need to give back to his hometown. But you? You were the child of two royals, who had everything you could ever possibly need in the castle. But that wasn’t enough for you. You had to know that your subjects were okay, and if they weren’t, you wanted to do your part and help even if you have no say in most royal affairs. 
Every day, he has more and more reasons to fall in love with you.
For a while, Renjun admires your work from afar, but he continues to work himself; just being surrounded by such productive people makes him want to be productive as well. 
Finally, he’s able to get a moment alone with you. 
“Why do you even care?” Renjun asks. You both are in a back room alone as you lead him to the borage supply to help cure a family’s fit of coughs. 
“Why shouldn’t I?” You challenge. Renjun voices what he has been thinking while he observed you working yourself to the bone. 
“Because you have everything you need in this life and in the next. What is a reason for doing this other than you’re probably the kindest person I’ve ever met in my whole life?” 
You smile. “You know how our families were picked by God to rule? To conquer?” 
“Of course.” 
“There’s got to be a reason, right?” You question. “To give us such a high position in power over so many people.” 
“He must have seen potential in our families. We need to live up to that.” You say simply. 
“Have you ever told anyone your opinion?” Renjun asks quietly. 
You snort a little before looking at your feet. “Once. To my father.” You turn your head to face Renjun, the smile widening on your face. “That was probably the hardest slap I’ve ever received.” 
Renjun closes the space between you, and his face is so close that your noses are brushing. “Probably not as hard as the whipping I got after getting out of our palanquin to give a homeless man a few crackers in my pocket.”
“I guess we’re two soft-hearted people.” You giggle, finally closing the pesky gap between your lips. You pull away, letting your finger trace his lips. Renjun’s nostrils twitch at this feeling. 
“We’re going to be different rulers when we get the throne, right?” You ask as you study his soft, pink lips that look deliciously kissable. 
“Of course,” Renjun says after a long pause. “If there was a way to tell the people to wait for a little while longer…” Renjun trails off as he presses his forehead against yours. Immediately, he feels the dampness of your skin, how you’re sweating in this hot building, but he doesn’t care.
Renjun thinks he loves you now at this moment more than he ever thought he would even though your appearance is less than exemplary. But because it’s imperfect, it makes you feel more real. 
“We’re going to give people more freedoms, like in other countries. We’ll share our resources better. And we can build schools to educate people and help them learn how to make the right decisions,” Renjun says. The word ‘we’ echoes in your brain. For the rest of your lives, Huang Renjun would be on your team, and together you would try to undo the oppression that your families have facilitated through generations. 
“Would you rather be loved or be feared?” You ask Renjun as you absorb the warmth of his chest. It’s a pleasant sort of heat, not the heat that prikles your skin.
“I hate that question.” Renjun chuckles. 
“Just answer it,” you pout. 
“Fine.” Renjun sighs. “Feared.” You raise an eyebrow curiously.
“Why?” 
“I only want to show love for my people. But I want my people to fear what will happen if they take advantage of me.”
“Interesting take,” you say softly. “You already know my answer. Love. I want to be loved by my people, no matter what.” 
Renjun takes your cheeks into his hands as he stares into your beautiful eyes. 
“Just be careful, my darling,” Renjun says. “You’re so trusting, too trusting for a royal.”
“Isn’t that what you love about me? That I’m different?” You ask playfully, poking his chest with your index finger.
Renjun doesn’t answer, only placing a kiss on your warm cheeks 
You take Renjun’s hands and wrap them around your body so you can be held in his embrace. The future together seemed so sweet, but now, you need to focus on the present. 
“Right, the borage,” you say, pulling away reluctantly.
-
If there was anything that your royal parents would disapprove of, it’s letting a man into a young maid’s bedroom, especially if she is unmarried. 
But you’re not for one with the status quo, and as per the deal, you were going to let Renjun paint you. The only place that wasn’t crawling with servants and event planners trying to organize the tourney celebrating your’s and Renjun’s upcoming wedding that would be held on the royal grounds was your bedroom. 
If there was anything you yourself would disapprove of is not keeping your word. 
You’re sitting on the ottoman by the window of your bedroom, one leg over the other and your hands knit over your knee as you pose for Renjun’s painting. You’re wearing a long turquoise dress, one that doesn’t have a million underskirts. Renjun wanted you to wear a dress that was so undeniably you, and this turquoise gem was it. The soft blues complimented your pacifist nature, and it was incredibly simple too. It is one of those dresses where the top is laced up, creating a ‘v’ on your chest, and underneath, to keep you modest is a white under-dress. The sleeves are conical and long, which is one of your favorite styles. Your parents didn’t like this dress after you requested the seamstress to make it because it looked like something a working-class girl would wear, which after that, was the reason why you weren’t allowed to request dresses anymore and your mother would do that. You were only available at the dress fittings, which bored you beyond end. 
It was just another way for your mother to silence you.
After some ten minutes of Renjun painting, you had a hard time remaining still, and that was when Renjun asked you to focus on something. You thoroughly focused your gaze on him, at his furrowed eyebrows at how he paints, dipping his brush in water, mixing new paints on his wooden palette. It’s as if the rest of the world is drowned out as he paints, and he exists only with you, his canvas, and his brushes. The way his eyes would drink in your appearance to replicate on the canvas made your heart rise to your throat; not so hidden in his eyes is his lust. 
Renjun stops for a few moments. His fingers are at his chin as he looks pensive, looking between the canvas and you. His eyes are glazed, and his lips are pursed when he suddenly says something in a raw voice.
“Take off your clothes.” 
“Excuse me?” You shoot back, stunned. 
“You heard me.” 
You’re not sure what’s happening in your chest, if your heart completely stopped beating or it’s beating so fast that you can’t even tell its keeping you alive.
You’re finally able to regain your composure when you say back wittily, “I guess you’re turning into the kind of painter that ogles naked women and sleeps with their muses.” 
“I guess so,” Renjun smirks. 
Your simple dress slips off your shoulders and falls to the ground when you unclasp the hook resting at the nape of your neck, and the following hooks that went down to your mid back. You’re left in your underdress, and your corset is beneath that. 
“Beautiful,” Renjun murmurs. At the way you stop, reveling in his attention, Renjun chuckles. “Now take it off. All of it.” Renjun says. He watches how you untie your white underdress that is fastened by a thin bow on your waist, and he watches how the string comes undone, and the dress comes to your feet. You untie your corset in the same way and discard it carelessly to the side. 
“I never liked that thing anyway.”
Renjun’s eyes travel down your body, to the way your waist is curved, beautiful with an hourglass shape and a cute paunch. He watches how the nubs of your breasts become hard at the way they are exposed too long, and to a man for the first time. 
You sit back down on the ottoman. You think about re-creating the pose you were doing but think against it. As a caterpillar comes out of its cocoon to become a butterfly, you shed your cocoon of clothes and become this butterfly.
And you love how your nakedness weakens the man in front of you. 
You reposition yourself on the ottoman, the expression on your face playful and carefree as you let your breasts hang on your chest shamelessly, plaching your arm between your narrowly-open legs to cover your womanhood. At the way your shoulder hunches, you create a cleavage on your chest.
It’s as if you’re Medusa, turning him into stone as he not-so-secretly ogles, the strokes of his brush against the canvas more sparse. 
All of a sudden, you leap from the ottoman and saunter to Renjun, who stares up at you from his sitting position. 
“You know you’re supposed to stand when you’re in the presence of royalty. That’s basic manners.” With a coy smile on your face, you swat his shoulder, your breasts jiggling and almost hitting his face. 
“Y-yes Your Highness,” Renjun says, bashfully looking away. He stumbles as he stands, and you can see even through his thick breeches a large erection. You can’t stop yourself from giggling as you grab him. Your bed is barely a meter away from where Renjun is, and you grab his shoulders and push him backwards, forcing him under you on the bed. 
You have both of his wrists in his hand as you animalistically kiss him, your womanhood searching for his manhood underneath his clothes. You can feel his rough stubble from his cheeks after maybe two days of not shaving, and it feels delicious, that you’re being touched, fucked by a real man. Renjun passionately enjoys your kiss, biting and sucking your lips as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues war inside your mouth, sliding against each other in a slobbery way that is normally disgusting, but beautiful if it is done with the right person. You gasp as his tongue reaches further and further down your mouth, almost entering your throat. Your second of shock allows Renjun’s wrists to slip from your grip, and he places them on your naked side, squeezing the softer part of your body, his hands slowly climbing up and down your back until finally, he gives your rump a delicious squeeze. Panting, you finally find his hard dick under his clothes, and you hump him as hard as you can, moving your hips along Renjun’s body, shaking your bed.
“Slower, Your Highness. You don’t want to break the bed,” Renjun chuckles. 
Renjun audibly moans at how you’re riding him, but slowly, the pleasure comes to an end. Renjun opens his eyes (that he didn’t realize was closed) to see you slide off of the bed, reaching from the side to pull off his breeches. 
“You’re reading my mind,” he says. You’re able to pull his thick breeches and pull up his tucked-in shirt to find his cock hidden in his underclothes. You pull it down to Renjun’s mid-thigh, watching with excitement as his cock springs out, large and erected at how much your humping aroused him. You reach out and excite his member some more, moving the delicate skin up and down, squeezing his hard length.
Leaning forward, you decide that it is time to suck, and you wrap your lips around his cock. You move your head up and down his length, your lips following, shielding your teeth from coming in contact with his sensitive skin. Your tongue swirls around his member, creating obscure saliva designs, and you can hear Renjun above you, turning into puddy by the minute as you pleasure him. 
Your mouth starts to fill with seed suddenly, and you gulp it down, tasting the sweet cherry pie that was for desert tonight in his cum. You close your eyes blissfully, and you don’t even realize that Renjun is sitting up. With a strength you didn’t even know he possessed, he pulls you up to his side, and he climbs on top of you. 
He’s ready to take charge. 
Renjun takes your lips into his mouth as he freely moves his hands on you as if he’s never going to touch you again. He hands travel from your cheeks to your jawbone, moving down to your collarbone and then your nice, plush breasts. He spends a few moments there, letting his hands massage the soft flesh, and you can feel moans leave your mouth. After a few moments, he focuses on your nipples, pinching them until you yelp. Then, his hands travel down your body, to your slightly paunchy stomach and your curvy sides. His hands wander to your throbbing womanhood, and his lips wander to the side of your neck. 
You’re overcome with more pleasure than you think is possible. 
“You’re so beautiful, like art.” Renjun murmurs as he pulls away from your neck, starting lovingly at your ruffled hair, at your smooth skin, at your bruising breasts and neck that will surely yield black and purple marks from tonight’s activities. 
You smirk at him. “Then you should be looking, not touching.” 
Renjun’s eyes glow at how you use your wit, how mischievous, how playful yet serious you can be. He’s lucky to consider a woman like you his betrothed. 
“You’re the exception.” 
Once those words slice the air, you feel Renjun’s fingers force themselves inside of you. About to scream, Renjun takes his other hand and places it over your mouth. 
“You don’t want the world to hear how good you’re getting fucked, hmm?” Renjun asks in a soft voice. Your screams remain trapped between your lips and his palm as Renjun forces one, two, four fingers into your womanhood. Your legs are flailing, but Renjun’s position on top of you keeps him steady on your body. 
Everything that comes out of your mouth is just a jumble, but you can hear yourself whimper and moan while saying “please.”
“You’re so well-mannered, Your Highness,” Renjun coos. “Oh, look,” Renjun notices. “Something came,” 
You don’t realize the white-ish, clear-ish liquid that came out from how fucked you were getting until you look down. 
As Renjun leans down for a taste, you suddenly close your legs. Renjun’s hands travel to your upper thighs, his knees on the ground since he hopped out of the bed. 
“Please please let me taste it, Your Highness,” Renjun begs from underneath you. His eyes become larger, rounder, and you realize that the power has shifted to you. For you and for Renjun, you realize that you both don’t fully take control of the bed, but it comes in waves. As Renjun becomes more submissive, you can feel yourself inflate, becoming more dominant. 
“Beg some more,” you command. 
“Please please please,” Renjun says in a string, the word jumbling more and more as he repeats his desire. He nestles his chin between your thighs and looks up at you with wide, innocent-looking eyes. 
It was these same eyes that watch you flail around as he inserted digit after digit of his right hand into your vagina. He’s a lion in sheep’s clothing, and you can already feel the little sheep start to suck the skin of your inner thighs, pressing loud smooches. You watch him graze your legs, his nose becoming covered with a dollop of his own saliva as he uses his mouth to convince you. 
You don’t realize that you’re opening your legs to fully enjoy the pleasure that Renjun is giving you when you feel his head between your thighs, licking your vagina. 
“Mmmhm” Renjun rumbles to himself, enjoying your sex. You can feel loud moans catch in your throat at how skillful his tongue, how sinful this pleasure feels. Renjun moves up your body, to your lower stomach, trailing your skin with your own cum until he finally meets your jawline. He presses more than ten loud smooches to that small piece of your body before surrendering his lips to yours, his mouth tasting like the cherry pie that you ate also that was present in your cum. 
Renjun’s hands still linger by your pussy, taking your cum in his hands. You feel slightly ticklish at what he is tracing along your stomach, and you look down, only to see his name written on your skin in your cum. 
“Mine,” Renjun says possessively, quickly taking your lips into his mouth. You bring Renjun closer to you, crushing him against your body because you want to become one so badly. You tangle your legs with Renjun’s, feeling his bare, naked member rub against your clit. Renjun decides to drive you crazy, rather than relieving you and your throbbing walls with his large dick, he decides to keep rubbing himself against you. 
“Please, please go in, Your Highness,” you address your betrothed, properly. “I need you I need you,” you mumble to yourself. 
“Have you got enough room for a future king?” Renjun asks coyly. 
“Yes, Your Highness. King Renjun,” you reassure him. 
With that, Renjun pounds his length into you, in and out, in and out repeatedly until you start feeling your head spin with delicious pleasure. 
Yet at the same time, you feel adrenaline coursing through your veins. You feel like you could lift a mountain with how much energy Renjun’s dick puts inside of you. Renjun shakes a little, roaming his body along yours so that his penis could explore inside of your walls. You gasp at how good that feels, how your walls squeeze his member, craving for his seed that dried up after you gulped it down like a hungry child.
As your mind wanders, the whole world turning into background noise as Renjun’s dick pounds into you, you whimper at the pain, how Renjun is tearing at your hymen. Yet, you still feel pleasured at the sensation, satisfying Renjun’s manly needs, and your needs for new experiences. 
You look down at your stomach, and maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear you see the outline of Renjun’s penis in your stomach as it roams around. You gasp and whine at how good the feeling is, how rough Renjun’s hands are while he grips your sides, and Renjun pulls out, his member dripping with his seed, arousal that coursed in him due to being inside of you. He pounds his length into you more and more as he looks into your eyes. 
You feel as though you could be trapped in this moment forever, of just you and Renjun panting to a rhythm that only you two know, completely naked as Renjun puts a little more of himself in you, making you both into one person. You think that all your problems being a royal, the daughter of your father, the impending stress of taking your kingdom and enforcing a newer, freer, more modern rule that hasn’t been seen or heard before. Certainly your royal advisors would be against it, only interested in perpetuating the old ways. 
Those problems feel elevated knowing that Renjun is by your side. Fucking your brains out every night. 
Renjun heaves a breath as he finally pulls out of you completly for a second time, lying down next to you. His member is still seeping with cum, and with a mischevious glance, you climb on top of him, your nipples barely touching his chest with how you’re positioned on top of him. You grab his penis, pleasuring it for a little bit before squeezing out more cum from your betrothed. He moans at your touching, and you can feel him shifting his position so he can enjoy you on top of him more. Pulling yourself away slightly, you trace your name onto his skin. 
“Mine,” you say with a cheeky grin, admiring your handiwork under the moonlight that filtered into your bedroom. 
All of the animalistic urges are gone from you two, and you both are panting heavily at the activity of the last hour, staring into each others’ eyes, shocked that you both were capable of such passion. You bring your face a few centimeters away his chest and kiss his heart. Renjun coos at you, gently placing his lips on your jaw. He trails soft kisses along your collarbone until he kissing the soft flesh of your breasts. He sucks on the nubs of your breasts, this time he is the infant, and he places his head between your breasts. 
“I suppose we were overenthusiastic about our jobs, and made a male heir too quickly,” Renjun murmurs between the mounds called your breasts. Your laugh only causes them to jiggle, causing Renjun to laugh too. 
“We’ll find out if we were successful if I skip my period.” 
“The birth date would certainly raise some eyebrows among the Royal Court,” Renjun chuckles. 
“It would, but then I would remind them that their wives are waiting for them at home, waiting for them to finish their work in the castle and nothing else,” you have a cutely evil look on your face, and Renjun picks up what you try to hint. 
There’s silence between you and Renjun. He pulls his face away from your breasts, and your faces are so close, you can feel the shadow of his nose on yours. 
“I love you,” Renjun says quietly. “From our first conversation in the library, I’ve known you’re the one.” Renjun waits in anticipation for your answer. You trace the outline of his face with your index finger. 
“I love you too. I’m glad that if I’m allied with anyone in this cold world, it’s you.” 
Renjun sighs, and your faces slide against each other. Completely naked under the romantic silver moonlight that pools on your’s and Renjun’s flesh, you act as though cuddling with your beloved like this is the most normal thing in the world.  
“I’ll never let you down.” 
-
The day of the tourney has arrived. Your father and Renjun’s have spent the greater part of two months preparing for this tourney, providing your mother the funds to put it together. If there’s anything a royal woman loved is party planning, and a tourney is just in your mother’s wheelhouse. 
All of your noble friends have been invited, dukes and earls, barons and other landlords that your family is on good terms with. They are said to bring their families, that this was one grand party. 
You’re seated with your mother and father, and Renjun is by your side. The King of Neo would be arriving late today, discussing some terms of the agreement he and your father came up with to his weapons suppliers, and he would be joining you later.
Together, your family and Renjun are watching a fencing match between two men, but the stakes are raised higher in this match: the two competitors must fence on horses. Until one man is unhorsed, the match will continue.
You never understood the point of watching two men fight on horses, but it is something you’ve gotten used to attending hundreds of matches with your family. What was the point in all this when the kingdom needs help? 
Sighing, you keep your thoughts to yourself. Renjun is sitting beside you with equal boredom, and you can tell that he probably has the same opinion as you. However, neither of you suggested leaving for some alone time because after all, this whole event was held in your name. Together, you would imitate the cheers of the other dukes and earls sitting with you, agreeing when they would talk about fencing strategy. 
The man in a dark horse and slim, fitting steel armor is Jung Jaehyun, a knight that was trained in Ambrosia. His father was a lower baron, but his status increased the second that his son was accepted into the King’s Guard when you were just a little girl. With his helmet and his clean strokes to his opponent, you’re reminded of the girlish crush you had on him as he ingratiated himself with your father. However, he married the daughter of an earl and had a daughter that was a few years younger than you. 
Normally, a man can be unhorsed by Jung Jaehyun in the matter of minutes, but his opponent is not giving up. The other man is someone you do not recognize after your years of attending tourneys and matches. He must be some new talent if he is able to be on the roster for the tourney and face of Jaehyun for this long. 
From the others around you, this man’s name is Qian Kun, and he’s from a different kingdom (those around you are throwing around more names than you can keep up with). He’s on a white horse, wearing minimal armour and determination on his face. His name is whispered as if he’s a forbidden secret. If one thing’s for sure, he’s keeping the audience interested – even you and Renjun are focused. 
Every thrust that Jaehyun throws, this Kun is able to block it, moving his body with a flexibility that you know for sure Jaehyun has. Jaehyun has brute force, from what you learned watching him, and he’s able to break down his opponents by being relentless. Most don’t have the skill to dodge. 
After multiple dodges and audience gasps, Kun starts attacking in his own right. You think that Jaehyun took the phrase ‘the best defense is offense’ too seriously because he struggles to dodge Kun’s shots. He’s so used to being on the attack that he doesn’t know how to defend himself properly. Being a big fish in Ambrosia make his skill in taking a strong opponent weak. 
It doesn’t take long for Kun to unhorse Jaehyun, and Jaehyun falls unceremoniously to the ground. The umpire calls it a match and races towards Kun, pulling his hand up in the air to signify to the audience that he really won. The audience is in shock before a few people start clapping, and then the rest. Kun gets a standing ovation from you and Renjun, and the others in the tourney follow in suit. 
The winners of matches get to enjoy the fruits of their rigorous training. There’s a cash prize, and for a boy like Kun, who wears homemade-looking armour and has a tan on his face and neck from rough outdoor work, the cash prize is something that can alleviate his and his family’s pain. 
Finally, you see Renjun’s father, the King of Neo, appear after all the hoopla that Qian Kun’s victory was for this torney. Another match would be taking place between two different knights or other sportsmen. 
“What a match you missed!” Your father says to Renjun’s in a light tone. 
There’s something different in the air with the King of Neo. All of a sudden, you feel as though the eyes of the world are around you. While you’re surrounded by a few of the nobles that your family is close with, the others are scattered around, and if you really think about it, the others sitting around you beside them are completely unfamiliar. They are people that Renjun’s father brought from Neo who are allegedly very close to his family, who would want to honor the marriage of their prince with the princess of Ambrosia. 
The King of Neo nods, and then hands grab your father and mother, as well as your family friends. You feel the tight grasp of familiar hands on your forearms, and you look behind you, to see it’s Renjun. 
His gaze isn’t recognizable. He only looks to his father, waiting for his instruction. 
Your father is cursing, spitting, while your mother’s face is drained of all blood as she stares in horror around her. 
“Renjun?” You ask, looking at your betrothed, hoping this was all some sort of game or mistake, but a part deep down in you knows that it’s not either. 
“Where to, father?” Renjun asks, avoiding your gaze. His grip on you becomes tighter. 
“Take them to the cellar.” 
-
You feel almost stupid as the story is unfolded in front of you. Renjun and his father are the Resistance, and their identities have been cloaked well. Ambrosia, as the largest kingdom in the area, was vulnerable, and the people were struggling and starving. All the King of Neo had to do was inject the idea of revolution by distributing literature that cried for revolution, and educate people that life could be better than being a peasant. Declare independence from your ruler, like those in France and America few years before. That worked as a recruiting process, and made his organization stronger. It gave him ears everywhere and a wonderful plan to destroy Ambrosia and take the fertile land for himself.
The information that your family is almost bankrupt passed to the Resistance through maids that were seen and not heard, and Renjun’s father set up a match that your father could not refuse. It was a perfectly crafted offer that would make any normal man suspicious. You guess your father was just despirate to make his money problems go away.
So Renjun came, his father got what he wanted from your father, and now you were trapped in a cell, your castle sieged. Wooing you or no wooing you, your father would have forced you to marry Renjun, but in the time that you’ve been locked up, you concluded that Renjun enjoyed watching you fall for him.
Huang Renjun was one hell of a trojan horse. Always be wary if a deal is too good. And always be wary when someone is just too perfect. 
You’ve never felt so stupid and childish before. Thinking that after the tourney, you would start seeing dressmakers who would taylor your wedding dress. Hire musicians, cooks, cleaners, and waiters. Tasting delicacies that will be present at the wedding meal. You thought that you were going to be with Renjun forever, but you now realize that forever was just a fantasy. 
Instead, you were starving. Compared to the delicious, decadent three meals per day that you were used to seeing, the mysterious mush that gaolers presented you did not sit in your stomach well, and sometimes, your meal times were skipped. You never knew when your next meal came. 
You guess you now understand the life of the poor people of Ciel. 
One day, out of deliriousness and anguish, from the lack of sleep you were getting on the floor of a wine cellar, you threw your hot mush at the guard who opened the door to give you one of your meals. He hit you across the head and you fell over anticlimactically like a rag doll. 
Furious at this insolence, the higher-ups of the Resistance decided to tortue you some more. Forcing your head into a bucket of ice cold water. Ripping open your skirt. Beating you with anything they had on them; once a gaoler beat you with a spoon. You’re chained to the floor as the door opens, and your new gaoler is in front of you. 
It’s none other than Huang Renjun, the same way you met him but different. His hair is combed back, and he wears a warm overcoat, trousers, and long boots. He has a small book in his pocket. It’s Oresteia by Aeschylus. The weather has been getting colder in the few weeks you’ve been trapped under the castle that you’ve always called your home.
Renjun drops the plate in front of you. He can’t even bear to look at you. 
“How are you enjoying Oresteia?” You challenge, venom in your voice. God, what you thought you would do after you saw Renjun on that fateful day at the tourney. You thought you would slap him and kick him and hurt him in the way that you have been hurting in the past few weeks.
Since you’re too weak to do any of that, you settle for some ‘dull’ conversation about a book, a book that brought you two together. How apt. 
“It’s good.” Renjun says simply. He looks away. He doesn’t say anything more than that. Where is that spirit that impressed you when you first met? You wonder if that was a sham. 
Renjun is about to leave when he stops himself. He turns around and faces you. You, out of all people, deserved an explanation. He shuts the thick door of your cell. He doesn’t face you as he clears his throat.
“You know, I didn’t want to do any of that.” He struggles to say any of this, to verbally disagree with his father. His father is the seed he came from. You are not his blood at all. Words made this whole fiasco more real. 
“Really?” You ask, unimpressed. The dark circles under his eyes tell you that he needs your forgiveness so he can sleep at night. 
“It went too far. Why couldn’t he just be happy with what he had?” Renjun grovels, not speaking to you in particular anymore. 
“I want to speak with my father. Or my mother,” you command icily.
Renjun sits down. “They’re dead. Beheaded two days ago.” His voice is dry and cold. “My father went with them.” 
You gulp. This information isn’t that shocking, yet you feel bile rise in your throat. You knew any news of your parents would mean death. They represent everything that the proletarians hated about the upper class. They would be the first to be kill. Yet still, knowing that the people who raised you, the people who you didn’t always agree with, were erased forever from this world makes your heart sink. 
You don’t have any other siblings. You are now truely alone in this world. 
But then the second part of the news sinks in your brain. You raise your brow. Renjun explains. He finally has someone he can process these events with. 
“Once the other members of the Resistance found out that my father only gathered them so that he could take over, they killed him.” He choked. “Knowing that their cause was manufactured so that another king could rule them made him just as bad. I swore my fealty to the new Resistance in exchange for my life. The organization has decided on a new leader today. A man named Bang.” 
“Just a few hours ago, five of your dearest earls were killed. The ones at the tourney. Bang and his cronies are scouring the records of anyone who was friendly with your family.” 
You snort a little. Renjun looks at you, and he knows that he deserved it. 
“Poetic justice, I guess,” you say, speaking about the deceased King of Neo. Renjun shrugged his shoulder. After a silence ensues between the two of you, Renjun gulps in a deep breath. 
“You know, they want to kill you next. Who better than the offspring of the Mad King?” He asks rhetorically. You were prepared for this. It’s not like you were going to be held in a dungeon until the end of time. You were going to have to face the music for your father’s crimes against his people. It felt so unfair, but it couldn’t be helped. 
“I’ve been postponing it. I tried to postpone your parents’ execution too.”
You didn’t even realize that you were holding your breath. 
“Even after all of this, I still care about you.” Renjun says. His voice is small, as if he’s afraid of someone hearing his declaration of love. After all, there is still a guard posted outside these echoey cellar walls.
Who you thought was a sweet, sensitive, artistic man was one who was always under the thumb of someone else, be it his father or this Bang character. 
“You’ll care about me until your new master calls,” you say derisively. 
Renjun pursed his lips. 
“I deserved that. But I want to be better for you.” 
You bite your lower lip. 
“How?” 
Renjun’s lips are close to your ear; you can barely hear the words he’s saying. 
“My men found a network of tunnels down here. One of the rocks on this wall is movable and will open a passage inside. I will give you a map. When you are done reading, eat it up, so there’s no paper trail.
“When I give you a lantern, you know that that is the time. I’ll give you a watch and a slip of paper about the time that there are the least guards watching the outside of this castle. I’ll distract anyone else. All you have to do is run. Got it?” Renjun asks. 
You’re stunned. Immediately, you want to tell him that you’ve got it, but you’re now suspicious. After all, your family’s demise was being too trusting to the wrong people. 
And Renjun has proven that he’s the wrong person. 
“How do I know if I can trust you?” You ask. 
“It’s the only choice you have. If you don’t escape using this plan and try to run off any other way, then you will be caught, tortured, and beheaded. The Resistance is scary business. You want my help. I’m their inside man. And I love you. I still do, even after all of this.”
You sigh. You could be fooled again. But it’s better than rotting in a wine cellar at the mercy of the Resistance, living every day hoping it’s not the day of your beheading. At least running gave you an iota of control that you lacked your whole life, as a royal or as a ragged prisoner.
And there’s something else. His eyes. His eyes were able to fool you once, but there is something truthful to it this time. 
You don’t have to say anything for Renjun to understand your agreement.
-
The lantern comes only a few weeks later. Since Renjun came to you with a plan of escape, you’ve felt more lively, and Renjun notices that as your gaoler for a few weeks. Due to the “good behavior” that Renjun vouched, you were unchained once again in your cell. 
Your first small step towards freedom. 
Renjun is able to slip in a few delicacies that Bang and his cronies are eating upstairs in the dining room that you used to eat your whole life. One day an apple pie, another lamb stew with herbs. While you gobbled down that food – the only food you’re actually able to stomach – he would engage in a brief conversation with you; it was the only social interaction you’ve had since the Resistance took over and placed siege on the castle, yet he would only stay long enough that Bang would not grow suspicious of him. 
Renjun handed you the map only a few days before the true escape, which was when you knew that the biggest moment of your life was coming. He wanted you to learn by heart the tunnels in the castle, enough so that you can reproduce the map in your head, and he didn’t want to give you the map too early in case you forgot. Obediently, you learned the map as best as you can, associating certain turns as if you were walking above ground in the castle that you were raised in. Once you were done, you ate the map, as Renjun said so no evidence would be left behind. 
“180 degrees, vertical” was all he said. You knew what that meant; 6pm. You had no way of keeping time in your little, windowless cell, so Renjun gave you a pocket watch. It wasn’t just any pocket watch, but your fathers that he always kept in his breeches. Overwhelmed with emotion, you dismiss the man who is saving your life, and clutch the pocket watch. 
A few minutes to six, you start palming the stone walls of the cellar, hoping to find the notch that will open a door that is your entrance to the secret passage. Your heart is in your throat as you claw the walls like a despirate animal, until finally you hit the right one. Using the minimal light and the small, hidable lantern that Renjun gave you, you trudge through the secret passage, remembering the map he gave you clearly, each step you take being another “dash” of your path on the map. You successfully navigate until you see a trapdoor. It requires a key for it to open, but you have a beautiful hairpin still in your hair from the day of the tourney. As you wiggle the pin into the lock, you take a deep sigh. This is a side exit that shouldn’t reveal your escape quite immediately. 
Your heart is pounding restlessly as the open air touches your skin. The warm sun and fresh, cool air feel good against your skin, where in the past few weeks, you’ve been entombed in stale air. You gleefully inhale the scent of the garden’s orchids, which is wafting from the garden that is north of your estate. 
You linger a little longer than you should. Renjun didn’t have to say it for you to know that this will be the last time you will see your beloved home ever again. Nothing will ever be the same again. You won’t be a high class woman (not that that mattered much to you anyway), you won’t have your excursions with Doyoung (what happened to him?), you won’t have your exquisite library anymore. 
Your love for Renjun is a distant memory. Today, you will be leaving everything behind. 
Your lingering turns to loitering when you feel a bright flash hit your face. 
“The prisoner!” A guard shouts. He rushes towards you, and you are just quick enough to slip away into the large woods in your estate. You used to play here as a child, and you know the woods like its the back of your hand, and just as Renjun’s map promised, the areas you ran through were sparse of guards. 
You can feel more footsteps thumping the ground as more and more men join the first man that noticed you loitering, and you feel nauseous. You can feel yourself screaming in your head that this is your one last shot, you can’t afford to mess up, and Renjun can’t even help you if you were caught. 
Wading through the creek nearby with your bare feet, you run into a ditch, taking scrap leaves from the ground and covering yourself with the debris. You’re too out of breath to keep running anymore; the gruel has not been doing you any favors. You hide in a nearby ditch, clothing yourself in debris and the shadow.
“Sir, she went through the water,” you hear one man say.
“Then get into it!” Another man said, more likely the head of this security unit. “You all are a bunch of pussies, a little water doesn’t hurt anybody!” 
You hear some reluctant groans as the men trudge through the creek, and you hear the shuffling of various feet at various positions, making it impossible to pinpoint where the noise is truly coming from. 
You’ve never been more terrified in your life. You’re honestly not sure how you’ll react if one of the men on that security team find you. Will you scream? Will you cry? Will your heart break into two pieces knowing what lies in wait for you when you’re sent back to the Resistance? To another, worse cell burrowed deeper into the castle cellar than your previous cell? Tourtue would surely be a staple if you were caught. These are thoughts you want to filter out of your mind, but they seem to be infesting your thoughts. 
“I don’t see her,” you hear one man say. 
“I don’t either,” another man says. You feel slight relief coursing through your veins. 
“What should we do, sir,” one man asks his superior. 
He takes a deep breath. He shuffles through the woods, causing the anxiety and adrenaline to spike in your veins, and he takes a look around once more. 
“Here’s what we will say,” you hear feet shuffling as the men get closer to their commander. “The girl died. She fell down that cliff over there,” he points to the cliff at the distance, the cliff that gives you a view of the Kingdom of Ambrosia. “We don’t mention what really happened here. Understood?” You can imagine that all the men are nodding. 
As you hear the mens’ footsteps receding, you wait for ten minutes before your head peaks from the ditch. The sun has fallen, leaving the world pitch black. 
Quietly, you shed off the debris from your pitiful dress as a snake sheds its skin. 
Now begins your new life. 
-
1802
You think you have seen the sun rise and set almost four thousand times since you escaped from the Resistance’s clutches. You haven’t seen or spoken to Renjun in the past eleven years, and he’s as good as dead. In the end, he righted his wrong, and you are not as bitter as you were when you were thrown into that cellar. 
That night, you traveled tirelessly north from the woods of your estate, going somewhere you didn’t know yet. All you saw were woods and woods and woods. Maybe a racoon or two. Plenty of squirrels. You tried to talk to some, but that didn’t work very well. It was the loneliest period of your life. 
Towns you considered settling in littered the landscape once you crossed Ambrosia’s boarder. Every day, you became a little less fearful that you were being searched for by the Resistance, and eventually, your quest for a new home came to an end after three months of searching. The peaceful little town you would be settling in was called Heaven’s Gate, called because of its high, rocky shores well above sea level. 
From the newspapers, you observed the rise of the Resistance, with more and more bloodshed every day that Bang was in power. Eventually, he was beheaded, and the whole Resistance fell apart. From then, Democracy slowly rebuilt the area. In honor of its roots, the state that is your old home is now the Democratic State of Ambrosia.
The switch into democracy didn’t stop peoples’ fascination with the former royal family that was wiped out. There were public records of the death of your mother and father with images of their bodies and eyewitnesses of their death, but none of you. This lead many scholars to believe that you were still alive somewhere. 
It’s a nicer alternative to the current narrative. 
You smile at the few books and pamphlets you found in your new home’s library detailing the reasons why people think you are alive and where you are now. The common theory is that you boarded a ship to America as a stowaway, living your best life.
It occurred to you that if you walked a little longer, perhaps a few weeks, you could get to the coast and become the stowaway like the stories said and land yourself in America. That would truely be a fresh start. But to leave your homeland? Never.  
The people of Heaven’s Gate were quite unassuming. Nobody asked many questions about your life before Heaven’s Gate. You took on a new identity, and the role as the town’s healer. At the ripe age of thirty-one, you have decided that Heaven’s Gate is your children and that you will repent for the sins of your father against his people. 
You operate your healing out of your home, and thanks to healing a construction worker’s mother, you got an extension for your practice built for practically free. There is an entrance to your office from directly outside, a little waiting room, and an operating room for you to examine the sick. Definetly much better than your travelling medic act in Ciel. 
As you sweep the floors of the operating room, you hear a knock on the door. 
“Come in!” You shout. 
In comes your apprentice Yoona, who has a strange man limping, leaning against her for support, his messenger bag dragging against the dirt. 
“I found him by the creek. He’s already rubbed some marigold paste on his wound, but I wanted to see if you could do anything else with it.” 
When you look at the man, it’s like you’ve seen him before. He’s around your age, wearing shabby, dirt-trodden clothes of someone who has begged for their whole life. He hasn’t looked like he’s showered in days, and he’s thin like a stick, but at the same time, he looks… content? 
Nothing about this man made sense. Beggars didn’t know that marigold stops infections. Where could he have learned that? A friend? He looks like he’s been wandering alone for a long time. 
Deciding not to much further thought into those observations, you notice how Yoona looks at you for a way to proceed. 
“Right,” you say, hoping to hide how taken aback you are. “Any sickness? Headaches, sniffling, coughing?” You ask. 
“None yet,” the man says grimly. “Although that bread looks very nice.” His gaze falls to the bread pan you have in the kitchen next door to your wing, fresh out of the oven. Despite how content this man looks, there’s a glint in his eye that betrays the hunger that gnaws at him, from days of starvation, running off of whatever he could find, most likely berries on the land. The man in front of you doesn’t emanate skill in hunting either, or else he would have a bow and arrow with him.
Out of pity, you take the bread from your kitchen and bring it into your operating room, letting Yoona shoulder the man into your extension. She lays him down on the bed, and nods out. She will be getting the standard items — water from the well, a few blankets, and spare clothes that you kept washed to give to anyone that came to you for medical help — sometimes, just being clean helps cure the illness more than medicine. 
Once she leaves, it’s just you and this stranger. You curiously watch him as he gnaws on the bread, a look of relief in his eyes at not having to forage for this food. Something about this stranger though feels so familiar. But you don’t know how. Any associates of your family were wiped out during the violent period of the Resistance, so no one you love from your old life is left on this Earth. 
Since the man already used your standard cure of marigold leaves, the only thing left for you to do is to rub a fresh coat, wrap a bandage around his wound, and hand him poppy seeds to put him to sleep faster since he has no signs of infection. Sleep is also an excellent cure. 
When you hand him some poppy seeds, the man shakes his head. “I can take that in a little bit. Really I’m fine,” You look into this deep brown eyes, and the feeling of you knowing this man is gnawing at your brain. “Can you hand me my bag?” He asks. You look dubiously at him and to the poppy seeds still in your hands. “I promise I will take them.” 
Knowing that you’re not going to breech this patient’s stubbornness, you grab his bag and place the poppy seeds into a small piece of cloth. The flap on top of the bag is pulled back, revealing a sketchbook and a small canvas. Memories, painful memories haunt your conscience of the boy who fooled you and then saved you. 
Watching the man take his sketchbook, he opens to a page of roses. Immediately, the storming of the Carcel rushes back to you. At the way you’re watching the canvas peak out of the man’s messenger bag, he breaks the silence between you. 
“I can show you what’s inside too.” He says. But you already have an idea what it is. Putting his sketchbook aside, the man pulls out the slightly dusty, smudged canvas. 
It’s you. Naked. That fateful night. 
“Huang Renjun?” You ask, finally able to find your voice. 
The man smiles, confirming his identity. “I was beginning to think I would have to reintroduce myself.” 
You’re completely flabbergasted. “W-What are you doing here?” You ask, your jaw practically dropping to the ground. 
“Getting healed. Remember?” He points to his wounded leg. 
“I know that,” You snort. “What I mean to say is how are you alive? Wouldn’t Bang have had your head since you let me escape? And then the ending of the Resistance. You were extremely high-profile. How did you avoid death all these years?” 
Renjun stares into the distance, recounting his life in the past ten-ish years. “I wasn’t as high-profile as you’d think. I was the Resistance’s painter, painting portraits of high-profile Resistance members. And I was a gaoler. Something about my presence,” Renjun gestures. 
Smiling, you agree. “You do have a power over people. Quite a comforting jailer.”
“I was close to the action, but was never really involved in it. I was more of a servant to Resistance members, if you will. And then the Resistance was overthrown. Any “close” members were taken into an interrogation center. I gave up everything I knew in exchange for a presidential pardon on War Crimes. That lead to the execution of Bang and his lackeys. Their over-the-table chatter led me to know about a little residence they have in Corsica where they went when things got too tough,” Renjun says ruefully.  
You nodded, absorbing every part of this story. 
“And then I heard rumors from old associates from my former kingdom. Neo is now a democracy. And then the papers. That you were alive somewhere. Deep down in my heart, I know you’re a fighter, you’re the strongest person that I know, and I just knew you couldn’t have died somewhere. I would have felt it.” Renjun places a fist against his heart. 
“As I searched for you, I completed this canvas of you with the last of my expensive paints from my time with the Resistance. That’s how I felt so connected to you, so sure you were alive.” Renjun smiles at the painting, letting himself get lost in time. 
He slowly moves his gaze from the painting that provided him condolence and guidance, his eyes glassy. “And here you are in front of me. Living your life. This is the life you always wanted, isn’t it? No royal chaos, no backstabbing and plotting. Just healing.” 
You nod. “I’m happier in this little house in this nowhere town, paid mostly through favors and the peoples’ love of me,” you smile. “I’ve always wanted to be loved.” 
“I remember,” Renjun says. 
Your hand finds Renjun’s. You study the sight. With the dirt caked under Renjun’s fingernails and all the creases in your hands from the mashing and plucking of herbs from questionable places, you can hardly tell that you both experienced a royal life. Genuinely, it feels like it was a lifetime ago. 
“There were times that I wanted to give up finding you, though. This is a big, wide world, and you could be anywhere. The rumors could have been right, and you could be on a boat to America, and I wouldn’t know better. My intuition could only tell me that you’re still alive.
“After seven years of being the Resistance’s little puppet, I was ready to find a purpose in my life again. As cliche as it might sound, my life had meaning when you were in it. Otherwise, I was always working for someone else, whether it was my father or Bong. This was the one thing I wanted to do in my lifetime.
“I had been wandering around for a while, visiting village after village, town after town, never staying too long. I wanted to settle down, but I was also attached to my mission to find you again. So I’d move on. Then your assistant found me. When I walked into this town, and then your house, it screamed of you. After all these years, I was finally sure of something.” 
You’re silent for a long time after this monologue, processing every single word, racking your brain to say something, anything. 
“The period of my life with you was the happiest. I wasn’t meant for the royal life, but having someone who felt the same way felt as though we were meant for each other. And then the Resistance happened. And then you saved me. You corrected one bad deed with one good deed. I don’t miss the old Ambrosia and my old life which is what made me able to forgive you after I escaped. I miss my parents sometimes, though. But if it wasn’t your family and the Resistance, it would have been something else — monarchies are growing out of style.” You chuckle. 
Another silence between you two. You’re out of words to say to each other, enough of the small-talk. Without you realizing, you come closer to Renjun, closer and closer until your chests are pressed together, and you can smell Renjun’s breath. A thin layer of dirt and sweat cover his face, and you take your thumb to brush his cheek, making a visible mark on his face. 
“I never thought I’d be in this moment with you, but the Universe is kind. I love you Y/N.” The fat tears falling from his eyes make tracks along his skin. You feel the stinging sensation of tears developing your eyes. You don’t realize how much you’ve suffered. Townspeople have tried to set you up with their sons, uncles, friends. But you’ve always rejected. At first it’s because you wanted to be a dedicated healer, and it would be difficult to do that with children. But now you know the real reason, and he’s standing in front of you. 
Huang Renjun. He is the reason. Despite all that has happened, despite how he expedited the end of the Kingdom of Ambrosia, you loved him more than you ever realized. Enough that it seems like that love is about to burst. After all these years of being alone, you finally feel complete. 
Grabbing Renjun’s cheeks, you pull him impossibly closer to you, letting your lips land on his and suck his dry, parched lips, but you don’t care. Renjun grabs your waist as he kisses you back.
Your breaths hitting each other’s noses, you finally pull away, your noses touching, as if your bodies can’t bear to be apart any longer.
You were finally going to have your happy ending.
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tagging: @peachjaem00 @infnteen @zennymeow-blog @shwizhies
a/n (2): if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! as my longest fic yet, i've spent countless hours on this fic, and i'm glad to publish the final results. i hope you found this fic enjoyable, and let me know what you thought in the comments or in an ask :3
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incorrectbatfam · 6 months
Note
Which of the batfam members do the practiced beginning theory in chess and which ones do rookie moves on purpose so the others have to actually use their brains?
Dick: paints over the board so it's one big square
Jason: grants knighthood to all his pawns
Tim: bribes the other king into abdicating
Damian: lets his friends blindly pick moves through an earpiece
Duke: leaves it to a dice roll
Cullen: creates extra kings with checkers
Stephanie: takes her pieces for a spa day so they all feel like queens
Cassandra: somehow it becomes a card game
Barbara: holds a diplomatic assembly and writes a peace treaty
Harper: sets up a naval fleet with Battleship
Carrie: puts a volleyball net in the middle
Kate: stages a coup and overthrows her own king
Selina: steals a piece every time her opponent isn't looking
Bruce: builds a 15-way chessboard for the whole crew
Alfred: packs up and leaves the Manor forever
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heavenlyvision · 7 days
Text
Why are you sorry?
This is a second part to Truth or Dare with Kung Lao, read that part ˗ˏˋhereˎˊ˗
Word count: 12.8k
Pairing: Raiden x F!Reader
A/N: It is done! It's a bit longer than I had planned for it to be but not by much <3 hopefully you all enjoy :) if it's not quite comprehensive, it's because I am listening to Hozier's new ep while editing and I maybe was not paying as much attention as I should have been :3
Summary: Things in the house are tense when Raiden finds out about your night with Kung Lao but even more than that, you are confused on how you're feeling about both your roommates.
Warning: 18+ only, smut, praise kink, fingering, minor handjob, spit as lube, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, big dick raiden lol, no use of y/n !!
MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT
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Not much at all has changed since what happened between you and Kung Lao, he’s been more affectionate? You guess, or more openly touchy but he doesn’t cross any lines and you haven’t even kissed since that day. You’re a little bit confused on what you’re meant to do now, should you ask him what you mean to each other or are you reading into things too much? Was it just a one-time thing? But then why did he say to only sleep with him?
Being casual is not something you’ve ever done before and you aren’t even sure if that’s what you are doing. You’ve been too scared to ask because you don’t even know what you want from him… you’re just worried about your friendship. Things have been mostly the same though, as in, it’s not awkward, you’ve both just gone back to how things were.
It’s the weekend and you’re playing a game of cards, ‘bullshit’ to be precise, you wanted to play scrabble – naturally – but both Raiden and Kung Lao outright refused to play with you. It was mean, this is the only time they ever gang up on you, well this and your wellbeing. Whatever, you’re more upset about being denied a scrabble game, Kung Lao played one game with you after you deleted the shy strangers phone number and cancelled your date with him but he hasn’t agreed to a game since and you feel slighted.
Pushing your thoughts to the side you glare at Raiden; he’s glaring back at you over the top of his cards. Moving slowly, he places two on the pile in the middle, “Two… queens,” he raises a brow at you.
You can’t tell if he’s lying or not but you’re too scared to call him either way, considering you currently hold a hefty amount of the deck in your hands, sighing you place three cards down, “Three kings,” both Raiden and Kung Lao share a look but ultimately don’t call you on it.
Kung Lao’s smile twitches slightly, “Three aces,” he boldly claims, placing his last three cards onto the table.
You squint at him and then laugh slightly, “Bullshit!”
“Wha– how did you know?” He exclaims
Raiden shakes his head at his stupidity, lightly snorting at the scene.
You fully laugh at him now, “I have all four aces, dunce, pick up the damn deck!”
Kung Lao groans dramatically, “Ugh, this is no fair when you have… every card ever,” he complains, picking up the cards on the table.
“Use your brain some more and you could’ve ended the game,” you smile at him.
“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “Raiden, carry on,” he huffs.
Raiden eyes his hand for a sec before placing two, “Two threes.”
The game continues around for a bit, mostly it’s just you and Kung Lao stopping Raiden from winning, he tries to bullshit but since both of you have a large chunk of the deck it’s proving to be a little difficult. This game is better played with a few more people. Both your hands start dwindling though and it’s all becoming muddled as the deck is split more and more. You’re losing track of what you’ve lied about at this point but you’ve somehow gotten yourself down to two cards and they’re a pair, they’re just not the pair you need right now.
Luckily for you, Kung Lao calls Raiden on his two fours, a risky move, considering the pile on the table has grown very large, “Bullshit.”
Raiden smiles at Kung Lao, “Have a look.”
Kung Lao is already groaning in annoyance as he flips the cards over to see, he was in fact, not bullshitting, “How are you good at like, every game we play, this sucks,” he grumbles to himself as he picks up the cards on the table.
It’s your turn now and you place both your cards down, “Two fives, I win,” you smile victoriously.
“Uh uh, not so fast, I call bullshit,” Kung Lao points at you.
You raise a brow at him, lips quirked up in a very self-satisfied way, “Check?” He squints at you and flips the cards, the cards that are in fact, a pair of fives. Kung Lao’s head falls to the table in defeat and Raiden starts laughing, hard. “Should’ve trusted me,” you shrug simply.
“This is crap,” Kung Lao laments, head still planted on the table.
You elbow his ribs, “Bullshit even?”
“You have too many trust issues, Kung Lao,” Raiden chastises him.
Kung Lao ignores him and continues wallowing in his shameful loss, “Just a few rounds ago… I was going to win…”
“…But you didn’t, because you suck,” you snicker at him.
He turns his head to the side to look at you, “That is just plain mean.”
The pair of you look at each other for a bit, apparently in a suspicious way because it prompts Raiden to state, “Something has happened between you two, something has changed.”
“What?” You question, taken aback.
Kung Lao denies, “Nothing has changed.”
“That wasn’t a question, I was stating. Something has changed, what was it?” Raiden scrutinises the both of you, looking back and forth between you.
You feel shy under his eyes and look away, you’d prefer he didn’t know that you slept with Kung Lao, you aren’t sure why but it hurts. You don’t regret sleeping with Kung Lao but you also feel like… you don’t want Raiden to know about it.
Kung Lao doesn’t shy away from Raiden, in fact, he looks proud of whatever he may or may not have done.
Raiden takes a moment to assess you both closely and then concludes, “You slept together.”
You go to deny, “No!”
“Yes,” Kung Lao confirms, and you pinch his side, “Ow, what was that for, he already figured it out.”
Raiden pinches the bridge of his nose, “When… when was it?”
“Couple weeks ago,” Kung Lao shrugs easily, no guilt at all, or if there is, he’s hiding it well.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Raiden asks, “Is it going to happen again?”
You answer, “I… don’t know–”
“–Probably,” is Kung Lao’s answer.
You shoot him a look from the corner of your eye and he looks blasé, not really understanding why you’re so uncomfortable or guilt ridden.
Kung Lao leans back in his chair and stretches, “Is it such a big deal?”
“I cannot say I am overjoyed at the news,” Raiden closes his eyes, thinking for a moment.
“Raiden… we’re sorry,” you try apologising.
“Speak for yourself, I am sorry for nothing, best lay of my life,” Kung Lao interjects.
Smacking him you say, “Ew, don’t be crass.”
Kung Lao adds smugly, “You didn’t seem to mind when–”
“–I am going to my room,” Raiden sighs, moving away from the table and heading back to his bedroom.
You feel… so bad for Raiden, sighing you look at Kung Lao, “What the hell? Can’t you see he’s obviously upset at us?”
“Yeah and I don’t get why, it was just sex,” he shrugs back.
“Just sex?” you clarify.
His brows pull together inquisitively, “…Really good sex?”
“You’re a dick,” you shake your head solemnly, angrily packing the cards away before heading back to your room too.
Kung Lao sits at the table, confused as to what the hell just happened.
𝜗𝜚
When you wake up in the morning, you can hear Kung Lao and Raiden thumping around in the kitchen. Their voices are muffled but you can tell they are not happy with each other, their voices are raised but hushed, the walls between your room and the kitchen also dilute the sound. Getting out of bed, you walk towards them, catching the tail end of their argument.
Kung Lao groans, “Ugh, Raiden! It was just sex, why are you so annoyed at us?”
Hearing him say that again, makes your heart pang and your footsteps slow, taking your time in getting to the kitchen.
Raiden is silent for a moment, assumedly glaring at him, “Would you be so nonchalant if she and I had slept together?”
Kung Lao stands there idly, his expression showing that, no, he would not be so relaxed about it.
“Exactly,” Raiden sighs, turning back to the sink, scrubbing at the dishes.
Something clicks for Kung Lao in that moment though and he frowns as he has his silent realisation about Raiden, watching him impatiently and trying to think of something to say.
Moving closer to the kitchen, you lean against the archway and ask, “Why are you both arguing so early in the morning?”
“It is nothing, do not worry about it,” Raiden dismisses, his focus on the dish he’s cleaning.
Kung Lao shakes his head before gesturing to you, “No, well let’s see, would you be upset if you were in his position?”
“Would I be upset if you two slept together?” You snicker at him.
He frowns and looks at you straight on, “Come on, you know what I meant.”
“Sorry, sorry,” you wave a hand at him and walk into the kitchen, sitting on one of the counters, “But yeah, I probably might be, we’re not just all friends, we’re also roommates, it makes the situation a bit uncomfortable, no?” sighing, you roll your neck and add, “I told you at the time… it might end up being a bad idea.”
Kung Lao also sighs, knowing you’re right, he turns back to Raiden, “I do not know what you want us to do to make this better.”
Raiden ignores him, seemingly done with talking.
You go to lighten the mood, offering, “Well… I could always sleep with Raiden and make it even.”
“What? No! That is not what I–” Kung Lao’s words are frantic.
Raiden turns to face the pair of you, “–Well, why not? She slept with you and I thought it was ‘just sex’,” he throws Kung Lao’s words back in his face and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bring you a little sense of joy.
It’s silent for a moment, both of you looking at Kung Lao, who is scratching at the back of his head and thinking really hard, he hesitates momentarily, “I guess… she can sleep with whoever she wants…”
It hurts again, hearing that, especially since those weren’t his sentiments those few weeks ago but now you’re wondering if that’s just something he said and didn’t actually mean. Did he mean any of it? Or was he just really horny? Raiden eyes you carefully, catching something that you thought you were hiding well. You shy away from his gaze, how he always manages to read your feelings gets annoying when you’re specifically trying to hide something that you can’t even identify yourself.  
Raiden wipes his hands off on a towel, “I am… not annoyed with you both…” Kung Lao and you give him a look and he breathes out an annoyed but amused sound, “Alright, I cannot say I am overjoyed but I am not… angry, you can do whatever you want.”
It’s fairly obvious that Raiden is still… upset but you’re also inclined to believe him, you think he’s trying fairly hard to not be upset about Kung Lao and you sleeping together. At least, you think he’s trying to not be angry at you both but you can tell he’s feeling some type of way about what happened.
It’s silent again in the kitchen as Raiden puts the clean dishes away, only the clanking of porcelain remains. The three of you not really sure what to say, the atmosphere tense, this is something you were worried about happening but you have no idea what to say to make this situation better and your heart continues to ache because of it.
Breaking the quiet, you suddenly ask, “Do you mean it, Kung Lao? I can sleep with whoever I want?”
Raiden stands stock still, feeling like he’s intruding in on a conversation he should not be privy to.
Kung Lao looks at you, his eyes slightly widened in shock, put on the spot suddenly, “I mean, yeah… we are not… exclusive and you have your own autonomy, do as you like.”
“Right,” you force yourself to sound agreeable, not wanting to show your souring mood, “I am going back to bed, you two need to start getting along again or I am going to do something drastic,” you point at both of them, your tone full of mirth, back to teasing them.
Before they can say anymore to you, you’re heading back to your room and crawling into bed. You don’t sleep, even though you try, you just lay there for a bit, numb. This awkwardness, this uncomfortableness and the weird feelings, is exactly why you said sleeping together was a bad idea. You wish you’d had more will power to stick to your guns but you let your judgement be clouded by emotions and feelings you aren’t even completely able to explain.
The time ticks by while you lay flat on your back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, motionless. You can hear the guys stomping around the house, their footsteps tracking back and forth as they go about their days, you know you’ll have to get up soon and be productive but you don’t know if you really feel like it. Everything feels like effort right now and you don’t have a good reason as to why.
Soft taps on your door force you to sit up, calling out as you do, “What?”
“Are you going to come out of your room at all today?” It’s Raiden’s voice, he’s clearly concerned but it also feels like you’re being scolded by a parent rather than being checked in on by a worried friend.
“No.”
He’s quiet for a moment before speaking again, “…Kung Lao has gone out… if that changes your answer at all.” You grunt out at him in acknowledgement and he asks, “Do you… want to hang out?”
You consider him for a moment before smiling to yourself, “Can I braid your hair?” you’ve asked him multiple times before and he always says no, you’re hoping he acquiesces this time.
He asks though the door, “Is anything else going to make you leave your room?”
“No.”
“Not even scrabble?” He challenges.
You feel yourself perk up a bit at that but ultimately decide, “No, not even scrabble.”
A soft sigh leaves him as he gives in, “Fine.”
You giggle as you pull yourself out of bed quickly and race over to the door, pulling it open to reveal Raiden in front of you, already looking regretful at agreeing to this, “Amazing, let me get my stuff and I’ll be right out.”
He hums at you, “Take your time,” he says as he walks away to the living area.
It takes you no time at all to collect your brush and hair ties, not wanting to give him the chance to change his mind. Your footsteps are rushed as you shuffle out of your room and into the lounge with Raiden, he’s sat on the couch waiting patiently for you, half wishing you changed your mind and want to play scrabble instead. When he sees the stupid, giddy smile on your face though, he finds himself not really minding that he’s agreed to this.
“Okay, sit on the floor,” you direct, moving to sit on the couch yourself.
He supresses his smile at your happiness and moves to the floor, “How long are you going to drag this out for?”
“Only until you look really pretty,” you snicker.
You spread your legs, him sat between them on the floor, his frame is larger than you have ever taken notice of. It’s hard to ignore Kung Lao’s stature, he’s frequently shirtless and showing off… but Raiden is just as built and you find yourself forgetting that a lot. You’re careful as you undo his hair, not wanting to pull too harshly and hurt him.
His hands come up to yours, placing them over top and stopping your movements, “You could pull harder, I will not break,” he half laughs, “But I got it.” He tugs his hair free of the bun.
Your skin heats slightly as his touch feels like it lingers on your skin, even as he’s moved them back to his lap, he was so gentle, his hands so large. Shaking your head slightly, you bring your attention back to the task at hand, you run your hands through his hair a bit, it’s soft, softer than you were expecting.
“You have soft hair,” you mention mindlessly.
Raiden scoffs, “Were you expecting otherwise?”
You grab the brush and start gently untangling his hair, “A little… yes.”
He mumbles out, “Rude.”
Your tone is full of mirth, “Hey! You’re the farm boy, what else was I supposed to expect?”
“I am clean! Thank you very much,” he’s pretending to be offended.
“Hmmm, I am not convinced,” you prod further.
He drops his head back onto the couch between your legs, looking up at you, “I can leave? If I am so unclean?”
“No, I am sure you’re so clean, the cleanest even,” you smile innocently.
He smiles back at you but rolls his eyes at the same time and then raises his head again, letting you continue to brush it.
“Where has Kung Lao gone?” You ask him.
He hums at you, “It is his turn to run errands… but he will probably get distracted, knowing him.”
Your laugh is airy as you recount, “It’s sweet though, he plays with the kids, he can’t help but get roped into their games.”
“It is nice until you actually need whatever it is he went out for,” he grumbles slightly.
You continue brushing his hair, “Remember when he didn’t come home until sundown?”
Raiden’s face scrunches at the memory, “Yes… I remember, all I wanted was tea and had to wait hours for it.”
“What about the time you had to go looking for him,” you remind.
He scoffs, “It was getting so late, for all I knew he could have fallen in a hole and gotten stuck.”
You laugh a lot at that, Kung Lao has a bad habit of getting really involved in whatever game the kids are playing, sometimes he even lets them win… if he’s feeling benevolent, that is. There are a lot of memories that both you and Raiden share of having to wait on him longer than expected because he was trying to win a game of hide and seek or something similar. It can get annoying but for the most part, it’s just endearing.
Mindlessly, you continue to untangle Raiden’s hair, though it’s mostly untangled now, it wasn’t even that bad to begin with, you’re just caught up in thinking of all the times Kung Lao did something kind or stupid, stuff that makes you laugh at how dumb he’s being.
“Are you okay?” Raiden asks suddenly.
You drop the brush onto the couch, coming back to yourself, “I’m fine.”
The scepticism in his tone is hard to miss, “And that is why you spent all morning in bed… because you are fine?”
“…Yes?”
His hand wraps around your ankle, the only part of you he can reach without moving too much, “You do not have to talk about it if you do not want to… but I can tell something is bothering you.”
You rub at your eyes, thinking, “It’s not and I am fine, I am just… confused.”
He pushes, “About?”
“Kung Lao has just… said some conflicting things… whatever, it doesn’t matter,” your hands drop back to your lap.
Raiden thinks for a moment before asking you a question you don’t have a concrete answer to, “Do you want to be with him?”
You don’t know what you want from him, so you answer honestly, “I don’t… I don’t know, like I said, I’m confused.” You fiddle with your fingers, “I am sorry though… I mean, I don’t regret sleeping with him but I am sorry… for upsetting you.”
“I am not upset at you, and you have nothing to apologise for,” he’s taken aback by your apology to him, not expecting it.
“Good.” You smile to yourself, “I’m gonna start braiding your hair now then.”
He slumps a bit, “Go for it.”
Moving your hands, your fingers delicately brush his hair away from his forehead, pulling it back, you’re careful as you collect the hairs by his temples. Grabbing three strands, you start the braid, collecting more as you go. Raiden holds still for you, letting you quietly do your thing. Aside from your small humming the house is silent, he doesn’t mind it though, he’s not even sure you’re aware that you’re doing it. He doesn’t want to bring your attention to it though, he doesn’t want you to stop.
It tickles him when your hands gently brush against his neck, gathering stray hairs. You’re being so gentle with him, soft brushes of your fingers against his skin, light tugs of his hair when it’s uncooperative, it’s overwhelming him. Your legs either side of his body close in on his sides, he’d started moving unconsciously and you’re attempting to keep him still.
“Hold still, please,” you murmur, still focusing on his hair, wanting it to look nice. He involuntarily moves again and it causes you to tug at his hair, it jolts him and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from whimpering aloud, “Shit, sorry, Rai,” you apologise to him guiltily.
“No, that was my fault,” he’s quick to reply, not wanting you to feel bad.
He’s feeling uncomfortable, particularly in the lower region, your touch and proximity is setting him on edge and he can’t help the way he grows pitifully hard at just your hands in his hair and legs hugging his sides. You don’t notice anything though, still braiding his hair, humming to yourself again. Somehow, even the sound of your soft, singsong tone, has his erection throbbing in his pants. This is part of the reason why he always said no to you doing his hair, he doesn’t trust his reactions to you.
The pressure of your legs holding him still is filling his head with images that are more… graphic in nature, the context completely shifting in his mind. Instead, imagining your legs hugging his waist as he–
You lean down beside him and speak next to his ear, “I am done!”
His train of thought is cut short but the effects of it remain, he’s flush in the face and fully erect. Feeling beyond embarrassed right now and wanting to leave the room without it being suspicious, he’s actively thinking of ways to remove himself from this situation.
“Great… thanks, I am sure it looks great,” he rushes out quickly, trying to appear normal but failing miserably.
You shuffle to the side more, trying to see his face as you ask, “Are you okay, Rai?”
He turns to look at you, his skin heating at how close you are, “I am.”
Your brows pull together, “Are you sure? You look a little flush… do you feel sick?”
He feels like there’s a lump in his throat, “I feel fine, honest.”
You hum at him in thought before leaning into him and pressing your forehead to his, your hand coming up to rest your knuckles against his cheek, “You feel a little warm.”
Raiden feels like he may pass out, any chance he had of redirecting his thoughts and calming down are gone. You’re so close and you smell so nice and your hand is so soft against his skin and your lips are right there.
As you pull back slightly, he takes a shaky breath, your hand comes away slowly, as if to give him time to stop you. You both look back at each other silently for what feels like too long but is only probably a few seconds, ultimately you’re interrupted by Kung Lao walking through the front door and into the house.
“…Hey guys,” Kung Lao greets, a little confused by the scene in front of him.
You pull away from Raiden completely and sit back on the couch, your legs coming away from his sides as you pull them up onto the cushions, “Hey,” your tone comes across as slightly dismissive but you smile politely at him.
Raiden clears his throat, “What took you so long?”
“Before we discuss that, we have to talk about your hair,” he replies, voice full of mirth.
“No! Don’t mock him! I did that for him and I think it looks very nice,” the last thing you want is for Raiden to get mocked so severely by Kung Lao that he doesn’t let you do his hair ever again.
Kung Lao raises his occupied hands in defence, “Sorry, sorry! I love it so much, it does look… very nice,” he’s holding back a laugh, you can tell by the way his face is scrunching up and his mouth twitches.
“You’re next,” you squint, pointing a finger at him, feeling slighted on Raiden’s behalf.
Raiden interrupts before Kung Lao can attest, “I do not think he deserves such an honour!”
“You know what, you’re right, my hair braiding skills are too good for him,” you raise your head up and away from Kung Lao, playing up your offence.
Kung Lao squints at Raiden who looks back at him with an incredibly smug look on his face, clearly proud of keeping this act between the two of you. Happy that he’s convinced you to deprive Kung Lao of an intimate moment like the one you had just shared. Maybe he’s being petty but also… maybe he doesn’t care.
You glance back at them and laugh at their battle, unaware of the very real and very tense underlying emotions between them, “Anyways, what took you so long? Fall in a hole?”
Kung Lao looks back to you and his gaze softens but still contains a teasing edge, “No… I just got really involved in a game.”
Raiden scoffs and you hum a small laugh, “Yeah, we had assumed as much, at least you came back without us having to come and get you.”
Kung Lao groans and rolls his neck before walking into the kitchen, calling back, “Come on, you have only had to come and get me a handful of times.”
Raiden sighs, “Two handfuls, maybe.”
You’re thoroughly amused and you giggle softly but take the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to leave the room. Choosing to hide yourself back in your room before either of them can question you on what you’re doing or where you’re going. It felt normal, the conversation between the three of you, for the most part anyways but you still can’t help but be upset at Kung Lao and that frustrates you more because you don’t feel like you have a good reason to be upset with him. You’re friends, not lovers, you don’t even know if… you don’t even know if you like him like that.
The only thing you wish had changed… was that he didn’t say the things he did only to contradict himself later. If he hadn’t done that, you think… maybe, you wouldn’t be this upset… or at least not this confused.
𝜗𝜚
It’s unintentional but you ended up drifting to sleep too early in the evening and now you’re awake at some ungodly hour in the morning, it’s too dark in your room to read the clock on your wall. All you know, is that it has to be late and you’ve just had the kind of nap that takes you a few seconds to readjust to real life after waking up. You’re confused momentarily on where you even are before settling and then you’re just really thirsty.
Peeling yourself off the mattress, you stumble your way through the dark house and head towards the kitchen, your eyes slowly adjusting to the dark as you go. You knock your knee on the corner of a wall and hiss slightly, stopping to silently lament your clumsiness, how long have you lived here for? You’d think you could navigate the house in the dark without hurting yourself.
Sighing and in a slightly worse mood than before, you hobble the rest of your way into the kitchen. As you enter the room, you jump at the shadowy figure already lurking in the dark, the surprise making you gasp and clasp a hand over your beating heart.
When the initial shock wears off, you can immediately tell who it is, “Rai, geez, give a girl some warning.”
He mumble at you, voice thick with sleep, “Sorry, thought you saw me.”
The deepness of his voice pricks at your skin in a… not unpleasant way, ignoring it you ask, “Does that mean… you heard me knock into the wall?”
He tries to hide it but you can hear the quiet laugh he lets out as he admits, “Yes.”
“…Great,” you sulk.
“Just wake up?” He asks, changing the topic.
“I didn’t even realise I’d fallen asleep,” you sigh, moving for the cups, “Why are you up?”
He rests against the bench, “Having trouble staying asleep, was in here for some water.”
“Mmm yeah, I need some too, I woke up and felt like I’d been eating sand in my sleep or something,” you grumble, filling a glass with water.
He laughs as he watches you chug the whole glass before refilling it, “You were not kidding.”
“I never kid,” you say seriously, moving to lean against the bench next to him.
“That is the biggest lie I have heard to date,” he says deadpan.
You shrug, smirking into the lip of your cup, “You are entitled to your incorrect opinion.”
“Well, thank you so much for allowing me at least that much,” he breathes out a small laugh.
“You are most welcome,” you tease, lightly bumping his shoulder with yours.
It goes quiet after that, neither of you having much to say right now, slowly, you finish your second glass of water and place the cup in the sink. Continuing to linger in the kitchen, not wanting to leave but not having a reason to stay.
When you can’t find a good enough reason to stay any longer, you push off the counter, “Good night, Rai,” you pat his shoulder before walking back to your room. 
You’re careful not to knock yourself against another wall on your way back and successfully make it to your room injury free. Just as you go to close your door, Raiden presses a hand on it and opens it again, letting himself into your room.
Before you can ask him what he’s doing he instead asks you, “Why are you sorry?”
You don’t know what he means, “What?”
He barely lets you get the word out before he’s asking again with more words, “Earlier today, you said you do not regret sleeping with Kung Lao but you are sorry to me… why are you sorry?”
You stammer, not really sure how to answer because you aren’t even really sure of the reason yourself. It doesn’t help that he’s walked closer to you, it’s making you feel like he’s in your space, he’s moved so close to you, looking at you so intently, waiting to see what you have to say.
When you can’t manage to produce anything, he sighs softly but puts his hands on either side of your face, his thumbs gently stroking the highest parts of your cheekbones. He seems like he’s considering something, weighing the pros and cons of his next actions. After a few moments of consideration and holding you like this, he pulls you to him and kisses you.
Initially, you’re taken by surprise but when you register his soft lips on yours, your hands grasp his shirt and you kiss him back. It’s electric, he kisses you in a gentle but consuming manner, like he’s being careful but reckless all at the same time. His lips are insistent but hesitant at the same time, knowing what he wants to take but worried about taking it. He’s making you lightheaded either way, a small sound escapes you when he kisses you a bit more forcefully.
He stops the kiss before it progresses any further, pulling his face away from yours but still holding you. You’re lost at his sudden absence, you were enjoying the kiss, you… don’t want to stop kissing him.
You’re slightly out of breath when you ask, “Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to see,” is all he says, scanning your face.
You frown up at him, “See what?”
His gaze lingers on your lips, “If you would kiss me back.”
You’re shocked by his answer and also still dazed from his kiss, what the hell does he mean ‘he wanted to see’?. You’re still frowning up at him and he presses his thumb into the crease between your brows encouraging you to relax. He smiles at you, it’s kind and also somehow, a bit smug, a quiet kind of smugness that he has shown only a handful of times in the past.
You pout, “That’s it?”
He seems a little nervous now, “Why? Do… do you want me to kiss you again?”
“No– I mean, I wouldn’t mind– that’s not what I was asking!” He smiles softly at the way you fumble and you have to gather yourself before asking clearly, “I mean… Is that the only reason you kissed me? To see if I would kiss you back?”
He removes his hands from you completely, “No.”
“No?”
He nods, “No.”
You place your hands on your hips, “Are you going to give me any more than that?”
He offers, “I will give you more… if you can tell me why you kissed me back.”
You’re annoyed at how well he reads you, especially right now because you don’t have an answer.  You kissed him back because you wanted to…
He smiles at you wistfully, “When you have worked out your answer, find me and I will have an answer to your question.” He pats your shoulder and then leaves your room.
What the hell just happened? You don’t even know how to react, he just… what are you… why was this so attractive? Collapsing into bed, all you can do is think about how much you enjoyed kissing Raiden and what that means for you. Going back to sleep seems like an impossible task now.
𝜗𝜚
In the morning, when it’s a more appropriate hour to be awake, you spend your time avoiding both of the guys. It’s a little difficult but you think to yourself, you only have to do this until your afternoon shift at the tea house and then you’ll be at work and it’ll be so much easier to avoid them.
You time your exits from your room carefully all morning, to dodge possible run ins with them. It feels silly but you crack open the door and peek out to see where they are adjacent to you, straining your ears, listening for them when you can’t see them. It’s all a bit childish but you don’t want to talk to Kung Lao because you’re still feeling upset over how he’s been acting after your night together and you don’t want to talk to Raiden after last night, you will talk to him though… when you have that answer.
Thankfully, you make it the whole morning without seeing either of them on your trips to and from your room. They also don’t come looking for you and leave you alone, probably assuming you’re sleeping in. The only time you see them both is in passing as you leave the house.
“I’ll be back later this afternoon, bye!” You call out as you rush out the front door, not stopping to give them the chance to reply properly.
You feel just the slightest bit bad but also not really, you’re allowed time to collect yourself and your thoughts, it’s not your fault they’re the cause of your confusion. On your walk to work, you consider what it all means, how you’ve been feeling, why Kung Lao’s blasé attitude upset you, why you liked kissing Raiden back and there’s only really one, glaringly obvious answer to both of those situations. How annoying, you cannot have this realisation right now, you have work.
Ignoring the answers you had been searching for, you get to work and waste no time in distracting yourself. It’s ironic really, you’d been trying so hard to think and have this realisation and now you’re pissed at yourself for figuring it out now and trying to ignore it. You don’t even have time to process how this makes you feel, well… you do and you could, you’re just choosing not to.
Focusing all you attention on your job kind of works as a replacement for thinking, you’re forced to put all your energy into other things but your thoughts tug at the back of your head and you know you’re going to have to confront this if you want it to stop. Just… not right now.
The shift itself is actually pretty good, there aren’t many people here today and the people that are here and that you interact with are incredibly kind. Some regulars come in and you get roped into polite chatter with them but you don’t mind, it’s welcome today.
It’s getting to be towards the end of your shift and though you’re happy to be almost finished with work, you also feel nervous about going home. Those nerves aren’t eased when you see both Raiden and Kung Lao walk into your place of work together. They do leave you alone to finish your shift, though Raiden stands by the exit, waiting for you to be done for the day. You don’t know where Kung Lao is, you’ve lost sight of him. Disregarding their presence, you tidy up and do some other things for Madam Bo before realising your shift is over and you’ve also managed to stay back a little by helping out with things that really weren’t urgent.
Feeling bad for making them wait, you head over to where you saw Raiden, still unsure on where Kung Lao has gone, “If you were waiting for me… I’m sorry, I was just helping out with some stuff.”
Raiden straightens up when he sees you, “I was but it is fine, I would have waited longer… if you needed extra time.”
“No, no I’m good to leave now,” you smile at him.
He smiles back but nods down at you, “Are you sure?”
You look down at yourself and realise you had kept an apron on, sheepishly, you rub the back of your neck and laugh, “Right… sorry, I will be right back.”
Raiden laughs lightly at your embarrassment as you jog away to the back area of the tea house. Quickly, you tug off the apron and put it away, taking a second to calm down and try to look like less of a mess and then you walk back out to where Raiden is still standing and still waiting for you.
“All better?” You ask, spinning around in a circle for him.
He confirms for you, “All better.”
You look around the tea house, trying to spot Kung Lao, “I thought I saw you come in with Kung Lao earlier…”
“Ah, so you did see us,” he jabs at you for avoiding them, seemingly, you are not as slick as you like to pretend you are, “He… uh… he has a date? Kind of? He’s meeting someone here… now.”
That makes you stop, you try not to but you can’t help but feel dejected, “Oh.”
“Hey…” Raiden reaches his hand up and places it on your shoulder, “I do not think he actually wanted to go… it was set up a bit ago by one of the ladies who is friends with Madam Bo… he is doing it more of a favour to her.”
Shaking your head, you say, “I don’t mind, he can do as he likes, or who he likes, for that matter…” trailing off you add, “He always does…”
You say that but you still feel hurt, he made you get rid of that guys number after you slept with him but he’s going on a date after saying he’d never want anyone else… Whatever, you’re ignoring this… this whole thought process has been added to the huge ignore pile you have created in your brain.
Raiden squeezes your shoulder and recaptures your attention, “You ready to head home?”
“Beyond ready,” your smile is tired when you look at him and he pats your shoulder, the pair of you turning to walk out of the tea house together.
The walk back starts off quiet, a peaceful and unhurried pace is shared between you, he breaks it though, asking, “Are we okay? I… did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable last night–”
“–I have an answer,” you look down to your feet, feeling his eyes on you, your steps slow slightly, “I wanted to.”
He stops completely, “You wanted to?”
You also stop but you can’t look at him, feeling embarrassed and instead choosing to look off in the distance where the house is waiting, “…I kissed you back… because I wanted to kiss you.”
“…Then conversely, I kissed you because I wanted to,” he sounds nervous as well but he’s hiding it better than you. You still won’t look at him and he sighs from beside you, “Because I like you.”
It feels like cold water has been dumped on you and you look to him with a shocked expression on your face, “I– I can’t, I don’t–” taking a deep breath you try to verbalise your response better, “I think… I– I am confused, Rai.”
He smiles softly at you, “I know,” he reaches out to your arm and touches along it before taking your hand in his, “I will wait… until you figure it out.”
You look to him and your eyes feel wet, it’s like… he already knows how you’re feeling, he’s steps ahead of you and just waiting patiently for you to catch up to him, “I’m not asking you to do that.”
“No… but I will,” he squeezes your hand and starts walking again, leading you back home.
You follow with him silently, not having much else to say, you think for now, everything that needs to be said and that you can manage to say has been. If he’s willing to wait just a little longer, until you can sort yourself out, until things can start making sense, that would make you ridiculously happy. He’s so… kind to you… and he always has been, you’re being overwhelmed by feelings for him.
When you’re back in the house, he lets you through first but as soon as he closes the door, you turn around and face him, stopping him from moving into the house any further, “I would like… I would like it if you would kiss me again… please?”
His eyes grow wider, surprised by your sudden question, “Right now?”
You’re feeling foolish now, “Only if you want to… you don’t have to.”
“I want to… I always want to,” he murmurs, moving closer to you, one of his hands reaching up to your face, “Are you sure?”
It feels like you soften for him all at once, “Yes.”
Leaning down, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back enough to ask, “Is this alright?”
“No. I want more,” you mumble, looping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself to him, kissing him firmly.
His hands move to your hips, holding you close, his mouth moving against yours enthusiastically. He grips the fat of your hips harshly and pushes you back towards the wall, crowding you in, you gasp when you make contact with it. He takes the chance to deepen the kiss, his lips are insistent, eager, it’s making you dizzy. He moves his leg between yours, pinning you to the wall, the movement against your core shocks you and you let a small noise slip from the back of your throat.
Raiden pulls back at the sound, his forehead falls to your shoulder, breathlessly he apologises, “Sorry… I– I am getting worked up… I can stop–”
“–No… that’s not… I don’t want you to stop,” your voice feels small, you feel shy but you don’t want him to stop… you want him to go further, you want him worked up. Moving your lips to his ear, you say softly, “I want you.”
A shiver runs down his spine and you think if your hearing was slightly better you would have caught the small whine he made at the sound of your voice. He doesn’t move though, holding completely still, trying to reboot. Taking initiative, you grab one of his hands off your hips and lead him down the hall to his bedroom. He dutifully follows behind you, letting you take him wherever you want, he thinks he’d follow you into hell like this.
Once you’re in his room, you turn around to face him, you got him in here but now you’re feeling unsure, your confidence short lived, “Rai, I’m not good at… this.”
He’s a little dazed as he looks down at you, gaze busy watching you, “I think you were doing fine,” he hums. You go to complain to him, bothered by his response but he’s reaching out to you, grabbing at your waist, his lips close to yours, “You still want me?” He checks.
Breathlessly, you answer, “Yes.”
He smiles at you before leaning in and kissing you again, this time letting himself be unrestrained, his tongue in your mouth immediately. His hands roam more freely, groping at you. Your arms loop around him again, pulling yourself to him, you moan into the kiss and it drives him crazy.
He walks you back towards his bed and you let him but as you reach the edge of the frame, you part from him, you have something to say but you’re huffing, trying to catch your breath. His hand holds your face and his thumb wipes your bottom lip, cleaning you of the messy and rushed kiss you shared.
His eyes linger on your lips before asking, “Is something wrong?”
You feel like an idiot as you awkwardly get out, “No… I– I just… wanted… you to sit… first? maybe?...”
He looks confused for a moment before clarifying, “You want to sit on my lap?”
It’s said in a way where he’s only asking to be sure but it makes your skin feel hot and now you’re embarrassed, “…Only if you’re okay with it.”
He smirks at you in a way you’ve not seen before and it makes your heart skip a beat, “You are welcome to sit anywhere you like.”
You make a shocked expression at him, not expecting him to say something so suggestive. He kisses you again, not removing the stupefied look on your face, only changing the reason for it and then he removes himself from you to sit on his bed, waiting for you, he even pats his lap lightly with a small and welcoming smile on his face.
It feels silly as you crawl over to him, especially since he watches you so closely, he’s always watching you closely and it makes you lightheaded. You sit in his lap and his hands stroke your thighs, up your sides, caressing your body tenderly.
He goes to lean into you but you stop him, “Wait–” you crawl off him and he sighs in disappointment but watches to see what you’re doing. You shuffle out of your pants before crawling back and sitting on him again, he groans when your covered pussy makes contact with his cock, “Sorry… I thought this would save time.”
He intakes a deep breath, “I think you may kill me,” he mutters, his hand drawing towards your cunt, thumb swiping over the front of your underwear.
His cock is hard underneath you and he feels… “Rai?”
He hums at you in response, he’s distracted, his fingers pulling at your panties without actually moving them, waiting for your okay. When he realises you’re waiting for his full attention, he moves his hands to your inner thighs and rubs them, fingers digging in a tiny bit, it has you wiggling down into him, the pressure flipping your tummy.
He looks into your eyes, “Yes?”
You falter a bit, “Are… are you… fully hard?...”
“Pretty much… yeah,” his brows crease, confused at your question, “…Why?”
“You just…” your hands grip onto his shoulders and you drag your clothed cunt along the length of his cock, he chokes and grips you harder, shocked. You bite your lip to supress your sounds, you’re just trying to see something. When you stop grinding into him, he lets out a sad sound, his hands pulling at you, wanting you to keep going, “Rai, you’re huge.”
“What?” He looks genuinely confused, “I am not, I am average.”
You shake your head at him, “Rai, you might not…” You frown and look away, feeling flustered.
He understands what you’re worried about though, “Oh, I will,” he assures. The way he says it makes your heart skip a beat, he’s so certain, you’re so… not. “Can I?” He asks, nodding towards your panties.
“You have to take something off first,” he cannot see your pussy while also still being fully clothed.
He easily takes off his shirt and chucks it down onto the floor, “Now?”
You nod at him and he eagerly pulls your panties to the side, his index and middle finger slide through your wet folds and he grumbles lowly to himself at how slick you are. You grip his shoulders for purchase, needing the stability. He plays with your cunt, fingers making a mess of you, gently touching your clit every now and again just to see the way you jolt and get an increasingly more desperate look in your eyes.
You gasp out to him, “Rai… you’re being cruel.”
He smiles to himself, “Sorry,” he replies, although, he doesn’t really seem all that sorry.
Thankfully, he does actually move his finger towards your entrance, his middle finger slowly pushes forwards, careful not to hurt you. Your pussy swallows the digit and he moans at the way you grip him. Your thighs shake and little noises you aren’t quite aware of slip past your bitten lips.
Raiden has to control himself, wanting to finger fuck you until you’re blind but not wanting to hurt you or go too fast. He focuses on opening you up on his one finger, cock twitching in his pants at how you make little whimpered sounds for him.
Your eyes are low and wet, looking to him and asking, “More, please.”
You look dazed, eyes sparkling with how malleable he’s making you. He might melt into a puddle for you right here, “Mmm, you look really pretty,” he comments. The compliment goes to your core and your cunt throbs on his finger, “Oh… you like being told how pretty you are?”
“Rai don’t,” he’s embarrassing you.
“Why not? Do you not want to hear how beautiful you are to me while I stuff my fingers inside you?” He singsongs, another finger moving to join the one already inside you.
You go to speak but he fucks them up into you and crooks them, rubbing them against your inner wall just right and the only thing that comes out it an incredibly pitiful whine. A sound that Raiden delights in, if his smile and bright eyes are anything to by.
“Make cute noises, too,” he utters to you, his other hand leaving your waist and holding the side of your neck, “Wonder how you will sound when you cum, though I think I know…” you look at him with wide eyes and he looks back to you, his eye contact intense, “You seem to forget that you have roommates.”
You try to look away from him but he moves his hand up to your cheek, forcing you to look at him. How are you meant to reply to that? You’re feeling really embarrassed and exposed, especially since his fingers are knuckle deep inside your cunt, reaching places you can’t touch when you’re doing this by yourself.
“I can’t– I don’t– If I’m so loud… why do you –ngh– never say anything?” It’s a struggle to get the question out, you’re trying to refrain yourself from grinding down into his fingers.
His smile is saccharine as he replies, “If I did that… you would probably stop.”
You gasp at him and he begins thrusting his fingers into you again, not caring to hear your protests to his answer. The sounds in the room are embarrassing to say the least, your skin feels hot and you can’t tell if that’s because of him or your humiliation at how wet you are. His eyes flick between your pussy and your face, lingering on your face for a few moments and pulling your lip down with his thumb before focusing his attention back on where his fingers are devastating you.
“Could you take another?” He asks gently, glancing up at you and waiting for your response.
You nod enthusiastically, “I can.”
“That is good, you are doing so good,” he practically purrs, it makes your pussy spasm and his smile grows, he’s going to use this against you a lot and that makes you nervous… and aroused, something he definitely knows.
He scissors his fingers, trying to open you up for a third, you squirm and look down, his hand is so large and… slick. Glistening with how you spill down his fingers and into his palm. It’s an obscene sight that makes your heart flutter, you moan as your hips wriggle down, silently begging for friction, for more.
It’s slow, when he first adds a third, it’s a lot more to take but you’re getting impatient and the sounds you make convey as much, Raiden tuts at you, “Just stay still for me, please.”
You clench down on him but hold as still as you can manage, noises you didn’t think yourself capable of getting stuck in your throat as his thumb rubs at your clit. He eases his third finger inside and your own fingers grip at his shoulder, gasped and stuttered breaths leaving you as you try to take it.
Raiden holds a moan in his chest, getting off on how you look right now, his cock painfully hard. He’s trying to be so patient, trying his very best to not lose it at how well you’re doing for him, how compliant you’re being. He’s not asked much of you at all and you’re so completely willing, eager even, it feels like electricity is running through his veins.
Your voice is pitched high when you plead with him to move, “Rai– please~”
He looks to you, his smile kind but his aura smug, “More?”
“More,” you confirm. You’re getting close to finishing, your stomach tightening, pulling taut, your pussy throbbing around his fingers. All you need if for him to move, “I am –hah– I am getting close–”
“–I know,” is what he replies with, apparently perfectly aware of how close you’re getting but still taking his time anyways.
Once you relax more, he retracts his fingers and begins thrusting them in and out of you, the sounds that result make even him blush. His eyes dazed and lustful, his ego growing with just how wet you are for him. His free hand moves to grip your hip, holding you still, preventing you from bucking into him. Something he’s glad he did because when it begins to feel like too much you try to pull back and he doesn’t want you going anywhere.
“Is too –ngh– much,” you whimper to him, the feeling overwhelming you.
His eyes stay on your cunt, not looking away from what he’s doing, “You can take it, you have been doing so good.”
The moan that his praise pulls from you is damning evidence of how much his encouraging words effect you and he huffs a small sound of amusement at how much he’s effecting you just by telling you how good you’re doing. You’d snap at him if he weren’t so close to making you cum, you don’t want to risk this slipping from you. Your thighs shake and your tummy flips, your hands pull and grasp at his skin and you all but hold your breath as you cum on his fingers.
Unable to stay upright, you fall into his chest, your head on his shoulder, your moans being muffled into his skin. Your eyes shut tight as you jolt against him, your orgasm wracking over your body. Raiden groans at how your pussy trembles around his fingers, a shiver running down his spine.
You can’t speak, not yet, you’re shaking still and you just need a moment to collect yourself. Raiden retracts his fingers to let you collapse into him completely, your weight sat comfortably on top of him, his cock jerking underneath you from the friction and heat of your bare cunt.
He moves his head slightly to the side, his nose brushing against your cheek, “Are you okay?”
“More than, I just wasn’t… expecting all that,” it comes out mumbled, you’re even drooling onto his skin slightly.
He counters, “You are the one worried about taking me.”
You harrumph against him, pouting slightly, “For good reason!”
“We do not have to, if you are worried,” he strokes the back of your head, his touch delicate.
Pulling back to look at him properly, you assert, “I want to.”
He pulls you into him, kissing you deeply, his lips tender despite the depraved manner in which he’s kissing you. His lust clouding his head as he kisses you deeply, hands searching your body, groping and pulling at you, on your hips, your ass, your waist, your breasts, anywhere he can get to. All you can do is hold onto him and let him kiss you into oblivion, that’s not a complaint though, you think you’d let him kiss you for as long as he wants to.
His hands slip under your shirt, resting against your bare skin, revelling in the feel of your soft skin against his rough palms. His arms move to wrap around you completely, tugging you to his body, your front pressed against his as he kisses you stupid. You need air, you’re being deprived, slipping your hands into his hair, you tug, signalling to him that you need to breathe. The action pulls a moan from him, shared in the kiss, he understands your ask though and rests his forehead against yours. He’s huffing harshly, apparently needing air too and just refusing to pull away from you.
You go to ask him if he’s okay but he beats you to it, instead asking you, “Can you take this off?” He tugs at your shirt.
“Hmm?” It takes your dazed mind a second to catch on, “Oh! Yeah, okay,” you giggle softly at your stupidity and it makes Raiden smile goofy and big.
He slips his hands under your shirt and tugs it up and over your head, exposing yourself to him. He chucks it to the floor before his hands hesitate at touching you, grabbing one of his hands you place it on your body, encouraging him to touch you, that it’s okay. He’s more comfortable after that, both of his hands on your body, he holds your breasts in his large hands, pawing at them.
Leaning down, you kiss him again, he welcomes it but doesn’t take his hands away from your tits. Reaching for his pants, you begin tugging at the layers of clothes between the two of you, you’re struggling though, lost in his kiss and his warm hands. You let out a shocked moan when he pinches at your nipples, rolling them, your moan disconnects the kiss and your head falls to his shoulder.
He softly chuckles at your reaction, removing his hands from you and down to his pants, “…Sorry.”
“I don’t think you are,” you grumble against him.
He presses a kiss to your shoulder, “You are right, I am not.”
He hisses as he pulls himself out of his pants and you lean back to look down at him, his cock is slightly larger than you were expecting, average your ass. The tip is angry and red, leaking precum profusely. Clearly, he’s unbelievably worked up, his dick twitching as he holds the base of it. Your hand moves towards him, hesitating just as he did before, he lets go of his grasp and pulls your hand to him, mirroring your previous action, showing you it’s okay.
When you take him in your hand he holds back a moan, resulting in a small, hummed noise instead. It makes you smile to yourself, the noises he makes are cute… you want to hear more. You pick a languid pace and jerk him off, his chest stutters and his cock jumps, your thumb rubs at the tip of his dick, collecting the precum there and working it up and down his cock, making him slick.
His hips rise and stutter, wanting you to go faster but you don’t want to make him cum, you just want to tease him a little bit. You wonder how much you could tease him before he can’t take it anymore and just takes what he needs from you, the idea of seeing Raiden break and be little bit mean to you excites you more than you care to admit… but it’s a lot.
You’re still worried about taking him, he’s not slick enough and you need it slick if you’re going to sit on all of him, which you are determined to do. Gathering the saliva in your mouth you spit down onto the tip of his cock and he groans at the sight, fighting the urge to tip his head back, wanting to watch what you’re doing instead. You use your spit to lube his cock, your hand glides up and down his shaft easier like this. Raiden stutters out a sharp breath, he’s beyond horny, he’s getting twitchy, needy.
He huffs out, “Can I –hah–”
“Hmm?” You can’t tell exactly what he was going to ask, though you probably could guess.
“Can you just–” He sighs, exasperated, “Sit on it,” he waits a moment before adding “Please?”
His phrasing makes your pussy jump, you weren’t expecting that kind of directness from him, it is welcomed though. You bite back a smile at his increasing impatience, which he doesn’t miss, his eyes narrowing at you but before he can even think of something to say, you grip him tightly and sit up on your knees, drawing closer to him. His focus is suddenly back on your cunt, waiting for you to sink down on him.
You get frustrated at your underwear though, wanting them off before taking him, you let go of his dick and he grunts, “Hold on, I want to take off–”
Raiden looks mildly annoyed in front of you, his hands stop you from going anywhere and in an entirely bored manner, he tears your panties off of you. The material ripped from you and chucked across the room, a pathetic noise leaves you at it and he sits back, waiting on you again.
He looks up at you, “Better?”
You gape at him, “That was… impressive.”
He blushes a little but is serious as he says, “I can be so much more impressive, if you would just sit down, please.”
You squint at him but take his cock back in your hand, hovering over it again, you feel nervous to take him and you falter slightly. Just as you’re about to follow through, Raiden’s hands are on your hips, stopping you.
He looks concerned, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I am still a little worried about how large you are,” you’re genuinely fine, you are determined to take him.  
He strokes your thighs, “You do not have to–”
“–I am fine, I can take it, I will take it,” you cut him off, you can do this.
He shudders at your assertion, “Fine, just… take what you can, do not force it.”
“Mhm,” you mumble out dismissively, already looking down again.
His hand moves to your face and makes you look at him, “I mean it, do not force it.”
“Okay,” you answer him properly this time, knowing full well… you probably, might, definitely force it… just a bit.
He squints at you, inspecting you for a moment before letting your face go and allowing you to carry on. You notch the tip of his cock at your entrance, breathing deeply as you begin sinking down on him. Raiden grips your thighs, his breath faltering in his chest, all of his focus put into not slamming you down onto him. It’s slow going and the stretch aches, you bite your lip as to not make any noises, not wanting to sound completely pitiful.
Once you get the tip of him inside you, your hands move to hold onto his shoulders, keeping yourself stabilised. You need to wait a moment before you can continue, you need to adjust. Maybe gaslighting yourself will help, you can take him, he’s not even that big. Looking down to where his cock is sitting, you realise gaslighting did not help, a small whimper leaves you at the sight of his dick not even close to being fully inside you.
He strains himself to say, “Take it easy.”
Raiden rests his head back against the headboard, his eyes shut tight, pleasure crawls up his spine and he’s having the hardest time not fucking up into you right now. His stomach pulls taut, he could probably cum just like this, which embarrasses him beyond belief. What kind of grown man cums from this much? Oh, but he’s so on edge and you’re so warm and tight and wet and he could die now and be happy.
Almost out of spite, you drop down onto him more, forcing it only slightly, still not quite halfway but significantly more than before. The shock of it causes Raiden to moan loudly and raise his head to look at you, his hands gripping you, not allowing you to do that again. His eyes are angry and wet, he’s in disbelief at you.
He’s a bit breathless now because of you, “I just said to take it easy.”
“I know,” you mutter, looking down, eyes looking at how he’s stuffed inside you.
You’re distracted, he might be saying more but you raise yourself back up before sliding down on him again, fucking yourself on what you’ve managed to take. He chokes and whimpers at the feeling, his eyes also watching where his cock is gliding in and out of you, his hips want to chase you, he wants so much more. He settles for gripping your skin and watching how you leak onto his dick.
He lets you take your time; you take what you can, fucking yourself open on him, his heart beats hard in his chest at the scene in front of him, his eyes all glazed over. Looking at you, you’re doing no better, you’re all fucked out with the cutest, dumbest look on your face, eyes gooey and mind far away. The noises that leave him make his skin flush but he can’t stop, not with how you devotedly ride not even half of him, he’s genuinely worried you’re going to kill him.
Eventually, after working yourself up and down his cock for a bit, you manage to take half of him. You slip down and whine at the feeling of him being so deep in you, “I don’t –ngh– know if I can take it all.”
“Does not matter– just– do not stop,” his words are rushed and borderline begged, pleading with you to keep going.
You do keep going, continuing to take what you can. Raiden leans forward, his face resting between your breasts, his hands gripping you higher on your back, still refraining himself from thrusting up into you.
“You feel so good… so good, such a pretty girl, doing so well,” he’s mumbling mindlessly into your skin, “Taking me so nicely, make sweet little noises, love listening to you.”
He’s going to make you cum if he keeps complimenting you like that but based on the way he doesn’t stop, you think that may be his intent. Compliments and sugar-coated words leave his lips as you try to keep the pace you’ve set, you’re throbbing around him, you’re so unbelievably close and if it didn’t feel so good you might be a bit more ashamed over how much his words effect you.
“Mmm, gripping me so tight, so perfect, have such good reactions –hah– I know you are close,” he’s still speaking into your skin, one of his hands moves to your cunt, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit, “I want it,” he groans.
You gasp, nails clawing at his skin, he shocks an orgasm out of you, it takes you by surprise, you knew you were close but not that close. You want to grind into him, you need more, and in your hazy, needy fog, you take more of him, dropping down as far as you can go. The sudden, extremely full feeling has you moaning loudly, your orgasm shuddering up and down your spine. You rock down onto him, at this point, forcing yourself to take him all, the pain only adding to the extreme pleasure you’re experiencing.  
Raiden is holding you close, still not fucking up into you but whining under you, the pleasure he’s feeling taking over his mind. He can’t believe you did that; he can’t believe you forced yourself the whole way down his cock while cumming on him, he’s going to pass out. His dick is twitching, his teeth bared as he holds off on finishing.
Your limbs relax and you slump into him, your body trembling with the post orgasm shocks that run through you. Raiden pulls his head back to allow you the room to rest on him properly, his hands run up and down your back, soothing you, giving you time.
Being fully sat on him now is driving you mental, you’ve just cum on him and you’re greedy for more, he fills you so nicely, you feel so fucking full and it makes your head spin, “I can go again,” you promise, your hips grinding down into him.
He moans, surprised, “Take a break.”
You shake your head no at him, continuing to grind down onto him, it’s lazy and needy, basically only serving to try and pull another orgasm from you. It’s frustrating Raiden, he wants to go easy on you but you’re not letting him, you’re making his skin itch, he’s so fucking desperate for you and is still trying to be a gentleman, something you’re not appreciating. You’re being a brat but oh, it feels so good while you do, your walls hug him so firmly. His dick fully sheathed inside you is going to have him going insane.
He can’t take it anymore, the way you ardently rut down into him, eager for more, it pushes him over the edge. His hands grip your thighs and he readjusts his footing on the bed, giving himself leverage.
He speaks through gritted teeth, “Take a break, sit there and let me do it properly.”
You whimper at him and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, memorising the sound you just made at him. He uses his new position to fuck up into you how he likes, how he needs, this is all he’s wanted. He just wanted to drag his thick cock through your tight walls how he liked and now that he can, it’s making him release strangled moans and whimpers.
All you can do is take what he’s giving you, his thrusts harsh and targeted, he knows exactly where to hit and it has you moaning and drooling onto his skin, your head tucked into his neck. You take the opportunity to suck a hickey into his skin, a particularly hard thrust from him makes you bite his skin lightly. He whines at the feeling, his dick jerking at the way you’ve dug your teeth into his skin.
You need him to know, “Rai –ngh– feel really –mmph– good–”
A shiver runs through him at your compliment, he turns his head to the side slightly and speaks lowly to you, “If I feel so good… cum again.”
You gasp at him, your mind reeling, he says the most shocking things, not even all the obscene, just completely shocking to you.
“So desperate for it,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, before directing to you, “Taking my whole cock so nicely, taking it all just like you said you would,” and then he adds something that devastates you, “Such a good girl.”
He’s done that on purpose, you know it, “Rai– I can’t– it feels–” It feels different, your orgasm is tightening all your limbs, your stomach flipping, your mind going foggy.
You try to move away from him, pulling back but he keeps fucking you how he likes, “It is fine, let it happen.”
He’s so sure that it’s fine and it convinces you that it is, you let it happen, you let your orgasm wash over you. It has you almost thrashing, your hands digging into his skin and your feet kicking against the bed as you silently scream, panted gasps leaving you as you squirt all over his lap. Raiden relishes in the way your eyes roll back and your body shakes, your cunt clutching and spasming around him so tightly he can barely fuck you through it.
One of your hands move to his hair and tugs him harshly, his head moving back with it, he moans loudly and his balls tighten. He doesn’t fight it this time, he lets himself cum, filling your pussy with his thick load, finishing so much that it leaks out around where he’s stuffed you full. His moans trail off into small whines until he takes a deep breath and calms down, his eyes watch how you leak your shared releases down into his lap.
Your eyes are bleary, wet with unshed tears, you’re not capable of cohesive thought and it feels like electricity thrums through your veins, jerking you every now and again. You feel like you might collapse backwards at any moment, it makes you grateful for Raiden’s hands on your hips, giving you some stability, enough to keep you upright anyways.
You look to Raiden and he smiles at you, “You look beautiful.”
You make a distressed sound at him as your cunt jumps but that just makes him wear an even larger smile, it reaches his eyes.
“You okay?” He asks.
“Mhm… I didn’t think– I didn’t think I could do that,” you slur, shocked at how he’s managed to do that to you.
“No one has ever made you squirt?” He says it so earnestly and it makes you feel shy.
You look away from him, “I hadn’t even cum from anyone else before Lao.”
“And how many times did he make you cum?”
You glare back at him, “Why?”
He smiles politely, “Why else? Want to compare.”
You frown at him, “This is not an analytical essay, we are not comparing and contrasting.”
He continues smiling at you, waiting patiently for the answer he knows you’re going to give him.
And you do, you concede to him and reveal, “Twice.”
You can feel the way he’s proud of himself for not only having you finish three times but also making you squirt. He changes the topic though, not pushing you, “I hope you know; this was not just sex to me.”
“…It wasn’t to me, either,” you look away from him.
You can’t bring yourself to tell him what you had realised earlier, you’re painfully aware of how much you feel for him, of how much you feel for both of them but you aren’t quite ready to have that conversation yet.
His hand guides your face back to look at him, “Hey, it is okay, I told you before, I would wait. If it is you… I can wait.”
You lean forward to hug him and he holds you back, he’ll hold you for as long as you need and you know that. He makes you feel so cared for, you won’t make him wait, even though you know he will, you won’t do that to him because he may be able to wait… but you can’t.
𝜗𝜚
Thank you for reading !!! I hope it was good and silly and that you had fun reading <3 if you have any thoughts, feeling, questions, don't hesitate to reach out !! have a beautiful day/night :3
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midnightwriter21 · 7 months
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jjk hcs: their fav pet names for you
characters: reader x gojo, sukuna, fushiguro, itadori, nanami
warnings: language (i be cussing a lot sry), suggestive in gojo’s but not rly
AN: first jjk post!! hope it doesn’t flop lollllll
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GOJO
pet names he calls you: sweet thang, sugar, princess, babe, mrs. gojo
now u alrdy knew before even reading that his goofy ass has a million an one pet names for you lol
but anyways
he’s got a MAJORRR sweet tooth hehe
like bro is always snackin on something sugary
hence the pet names sweet thang and sugar
“whatchu doin sweet thang” holding up his blindfold so you can see him wink at u lmfao
but when he calls u sugar i imagine him doin it the way those sweet old southern ladies say it if ykwim lmao
now
princess and babe are much more casual
like he’s calling out “babe i’m home!” when he gets back from a mission
or y’all are at the school and he’s calling for you even tho he 100% alrdy knows exactly where u are bc of ur cursed energy “princesssssssss where are youuuuuu??”
and mrs. gojo is used in either a VERY romantic situation when he’s tryna rizz u up
or
he’s tryna embarrass you in front of the students
there is no in between
“well, me and mrs. gojo gotta head out! she has stuff to do!”
“satoru.. we are not married. my last name isn’t gojo.”
“… yet” 😼
“and what stuff do i have to do?”
“me. i’m stuff.” 😼
*que megumi, yuji, and nobara fake gagging in the background*
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SUKUNA
pet names he calls you: my queen, darling
he’s the king of curses so the first one should be self explanatory
cmon every king needs a queen yk
now he’s powerful as hell right
bro demands respect for himself
but let somebody say som to you in the wrong tone
girl rip that person fr
“you dare to speak to my queen that way?” and he’s busting their ass
also that’s how he introduces you to everybody
introduces himself first. and then hits them w the “and this is my queen, (y/n)”
darling is more of a laid back casual pet name
but he uses it all the mf time
“come here, darling”
“you look beautiful as always, darling”
“darling, you are the one that is important to me.”
darling darling darling
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FUSHIGURO
pet names he calls you: babe, love, sweetheart
he likes to keep it simple
most of the time he just calls you by your name
def keeps the pet names to a minimum in public
or when he’s around his friends
especially when he’s around gojo lol
i mean cmon the second he calls u a pet name and gojo overhears?
poor thing is being teased til he’s bright red with embarrassment
in private tho?
ur real name almost never leaves his mouth lmfao
it’s “babe can you do this?” “come take a nap with me, love” “what are you doin, sweetheart”
idk i just know he’s soft for u
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ITADORI
pet names he calls you: baby, cutie, peaches/peach
this man loves you and isn’t afraid to show it!!
NEVER uses ur real name
EVER
baby and cutie are his casual nicknames ofc
for things he’s sayin to u in passing
he’s hugging u from behind with a “hey cutie”
or when he’s whining abt something lol
“cmon baby you can’t be mad at me forever”
but he uses peach and peaches the most
the man likes ass
he said it himself
it’s canon
so ofc he’s referring to your “big juicy ass” his words not mine when he calls you that lmfaooo
but it also cute asf
“come peach get dressed! i’m taking you to watch a movie with me!”
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NANAMI
pet names he calls you: sweetheart, darling, my love, honey
I. LOVE. HIM.
i rly don’t even have any reasoning behind his usage of these pet names they just fit him
he’s such a serious, sophisticated, gentleman
so of course he takes his relationship with you seriously as well
makes sure that you know he adores you
his love language is words of affirmation ik it
gojo jokes that y’all talk to each other like an old married couple
which u do
but it’s cute!!!
it’s the middle of the night and he has to leave for a mission and wake you up on accident?
“sorry, sweetheart, go back to sleep. i’ll be home soon”
he gets home from the mission and as soon as he opens the door he hits you w the cliche
“honey, i’m home!”
this next one is an every day occurrence
and i MEAN EVERYDAY
“good morning, my love” IN HIS DEEP MORNING VOICE meowwww
and y’all go on a date an you get dressed up for it?
“you look absolutely stunning, darling”
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jamespotterismydaddy · 6 months
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For The Taking
aemond x sister!reader smut
A/N: this is based off a request here for obsessive!aemond so i hope you love it!
TW: smut, DUBCON, incest, knife kink, blood kink, breeding kink, size kink, murder, rough smut
word count: 1,789 words
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Aemond chaperones all of your meetings with possible suitors. It’s just what a good big brother does, right? He watches closely to make sure they don’t get too close, don’t say anything too suggestive, or do anything that could ever bother you.
He walks, ten steps behind, as you promenade around the gardens with Lord Tully. He hates him already. In theory, Lord Tully checks all the boxes. He’s handsome, considerate and only eight years your senior but something about him makes Aemond see red. Some boring lord from Riverrun could never be good enough for you, his perfect baby sister and the worst part is, you seem to like him.
“Of course, Ser.” You giggle at the lord’s words. Fuck. Aemond missed what he said.
“I shall have to part ways with you for now, princess. I have felt a sudden need to speak to the King.” You beam up at him. Speaking to the King could very well mean a marriage proposal.
You nod in response and giggle again when Lord Tully kisses your hand before leaving.
“I don’t like him.” Aemond says sternly. Your face falls.
“What? Why not?” You say as you look up to your brother with puppy dog eyes. His opinion means everything to you.
“There is simply something about him I do not trust. You can do much better.”
“I don’t understand. I thought he was-”
“Do you not believe me?” Aemond asks you, putting a hint of sorrow in his eyes.
“No! Of course that’s not it. I’m just disappointed. It seems there has been something off about every suitor. Soon there’ll be none left.” You pout a little as you look down.
“You will find a perfect match.” He tilts your head up so you have to look him in the eye. “I will only have the best for you.” 
“I know.” You say softly before pressing a light kiss to his cheek and murmuring something about attending to your needlepoint with Helaena. You make your way from the gardens.
~~~
The next day, the royal family has a breakfast. A family breakfast. You don’t think that you’ve shared a meal with your father in weeks so there must be some sort of news.
“My love.” Your mother starts. “We have something wonderful to tell you…” She looks to the King who seems to be irritated that he has to speak on the manner.
“Lord Tully has asked for your hand and we have granted it.” Your father finishes.
“He has?” You look at Aemond nervously.
“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” Your mother beams at you, happy with the match.
“But mother, I was sure we discussed my thoughts on him.” Aemond starts and you watch the look on Alicent’s face change. She knows. A mother always knows.
“Ser Brynden is a good man and a knight. You’ve also shot down all of her other suitors, Aemond.” The Queen looks at him sternly. Aemond is fuming but says nothing. “We will start the wedding preparations soon.” She says to you with a soft smile.
The rest of the meal is tense but your mother tries to push through, chattering about wedding dresses and cake. Though, when everyone is finished eating, Aemond leaves quickly, a disturbing look in his eye.
~~~
In the middle of the night, you are awoken by the sound of your bedroom door opening. You call out your guards name and receive no response. You start to get nervous. You grab a candelabra from your bedside table as you get out of bed.
“Who’s there?” You call out.
Aemond comes into view.
You sigh in relief. “Aem, you frightened me.” You put down the candelabra.
“Were you intending to fight off an intruder with that?” He chuckles. And then… he walks into the moonlight. There’s blood on his collar.
“Oh Aemond, are you hurt?” You rush over to him, a concerned look in your eyes as you inspect him. You go on your tippy toes when you hold his face in your hands so you might be able to see better.
“What a caring little girl you are.” He coos at you but the look of worry strewn across your face doesn’t fade. “It’s not my blood.” He says darkly but you still don’t get it.
“Who’s blood is it?” You ask tenderly, just glad he isn’t hurt.
“Tully’s.” He says and this is when you realize.
“Is he… alright?” The concern is gone from your voice. You’re frightened again.
“Most people aren’t alright after being run through with a sword and fed to a dragon.” He says and chuckles again. Your mouth goes dry.
“You… you…” Your eyes well up with tears. You’re utterly shocked.
“Killed him? I did.” He says and then notices the look on your face, how you have started to inch away. He reaches his hand behind your head, running his fingers through it before gripping it tightly at the roots.
“Ah… Aemond, that hurts.” You whimper and he loosens his grip slightly so he’s just holding you in place.
“I’m sorry, darling. You know I never want to hurt you but the way you’re looking at me right now… it hurts me.” He says calmly.
“You truly did it?” You ask and the tears start to fall.
“I did it for you. For us.” He explains.
“Us?” You’re confused again.
“Yes. Can’t you see? None of these men are enough for you. You’re mine.” He says firmly as he pulls you closer and looks you right in the eyes.
“But mother says it’s… unnatural. Aegon and Helaena are an exception to support Aegon’s claim.”
“We are Targaryens. Wedding you is my gods given right.” He says as he wipes the tears from your face. “I’ll make sure of it. Mother will have no choice but to accept when your belly swells with my babe.”
“W-What?” You try to say more but his lips are pressed to yours before you can get the words out. He kisses you roughly and forces his tongue into your mouth. So much for a gentle first kiss. His arms snake around your waist and pull you against him. When he parts his mouth from yours, your lips are swollen and you stand still in shock.
“Take your nightgown off.” He commands, his eye staring firmly at your nipples that poke through the fabric.
“No, Aemond. We aren’t wed. You’ll ruin me.” You beg him.
“Shhh. I’m your big brother, rūs.” (baby) “You need to trust me.” His fingers go to the straps of the nightgown and slip them down your shoulders so that the garment falls to the floor. You let him, ever the obedient sister. His fingers move to your smallclothes, letting them drop off you next. His gaze washes over you. “You must be the prettiest girl in all of Westeros.” He praises and you don’t know if you blush more at the words or your nakedness. “Lay back on the bed, rūs.” You pout a little and don’t obey him. You’re frozen in place. “Now.” The command brings you back to reality and you listen this time and lay back, your legs clenched together. “Open up those legs.” He says.
“I’m frightened.” You whisper out and he chuckles.
“I’ll be gentle, rūs… at first.” He says as he pries your legs open. He looks at you so hungrily as you lie there, waiting for him. You’re so much smaller than him, so delicate. He undresses for you, he likes how your eyes follow his movements. “You like watching me?” He asks before dropping his breeches.
“I-um…” The size of him makes you nervous. “That part goes in?” You ask him.
“Yes.” He says before beginning to play with your pearl, You whimper softly.
“It won’t fit.” You say.
“It will. I’ll make it.” He slips a finger inside of you. “Tell me rūs, have you ever touched yourself here?” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks again.
“N-No, my septa says it’s dirty.” He smiles at your answer.
“Good. This place is only for me to touch.” He positions himself between your legs and pumps his cock a few times. “This’ll hurt.” He sheaths himself inside of you slowly but still too fast for your liking.
“No… out.” You whine and squirm but he holds your hips in place, forcing you to adjust to his size.
“Stop squeezing me like that. I won’t be able to control myself.” He says with a grunt.
“I’m not.” You say truthfully with a whine. You’re really just that tight.
“Is it still hurting?” He asks.
“Only a bit.” You say, tears in your eyes but that’s enough for him.
He begins thrusting in and out of you savagely, hitting so deep inside of you that you feel as if you’re about to burst.
“Gods, your cunt is perfect.” He says as he fucks into so that you’re whimpering beneath him. He’s so big compared to you that he can see the outline of his cock on your tummy. He smirks at the sight and presses down on it to make you squirm. “I’m going to make this belly swell with a baby just like how I’m making it swell with my cock.” He says and leans down more to kiss and bite at your neck. “You’re fucking mine. Do you understand? You’re my wife.” He punctuates his words with his thrusts. The rough behaviour leaves you light-headed.
Aemond reaches over to the bedside table where he placed his dagger and he grabs it. Your eyes widen.
“Aemond?”
“I’ll make you my wife the moment I spill my seed into you, spilling drops of our blood together.” He says as he brandishes the dagger.
You don’t even know what to say, too tired for a response as he grabs your chin and runs the blade of the dagger across your lips until you bleed. You wince. He cuts his own lip right after. His blood drips onto your skin but he doesn’t kiss you yet. He begins to rub your pearl, trying to coax a peak out of you. When he feels you begin to clench around him, he knows it’s time.
“Aem, something is happ-” He cuts you off with a kiss, mixing your blood with his. He fervently makes you his wife in the ways of Old Valyria. You gasp as your peak washes over you, never having felt such a thing before and that gives him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, kissing you deeply as he spends inside of you. When he parts the kiss, he gazes into your eyes.
“You’re mine now. By my will and the will of the gods.”
taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy
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If you are a movie fan and haven't read the book yet, here are some irrelevant details from the book
Henry owns a cardigan
Arthur and Catherine meet on a Henry V play (which they named Henry after), which Catherine went to see and saw Arthur playing. She "shook off her security to disappear into London and dance all night".
Pez listens to kpop, and he got Alex into it
Nora watches drag race and got Henry into it
Henry is an Elton John fan (actually relevant in the book)
Alex is a Hall & Oates fan
Alex wears glasses (actually relevant in the book)
Henry is described by Alex as having lots of moles
Bea is the rockstar girlfriend, at the end of the book she plays on a concert and everything. She plays the guitar and is always wearing a leather jacket. She also has a fat cat called Mr Wobbles. And the queen wanted her to learn violin “since it was more proper” instead of guitar. “Bea was allowed to learn both, but she went to uni for classical violin.”
During the turkey phonecall, Henry is wearing a peely face mask
Amy is trans and has a pansexual wife
(Actually relevant) Catherine was not off in another country the whole story, just battling intense grief for her husband's death, so she wasn't present in her children's life, so they felt as if they lost both parents.
There's no king, she's actually a queen, her name is Mary and she should die (she's so so much worse on the book than the king is on the movie)
David is a service dog
(Actually relevant in the book) June bought a teen magazine at 15 and 13 year old Alex would sneak into her room to stare at the magazine (and the picture of a blonde 14 year old British prince on it).
Bea is the middle kid, Henry is the youngest
Henry is canonically on therapy and on antidepressants (since the start of the book)
I don't remember if they mentioned it on the movie but Arthur was James Bond and died of pancreatic cancer.
Alex’s favorite Olympic sport is rhythmic gymnastics
Bea had an addiction problem when Henry was about 17 (as a way to cope after their father's death) and only got herself into rehab after Henry went to her and started crying about dad was dead and he was gay and scared so she couldn't kill herself. That's how he came out to her
Alex doesn't wanna be president at the end of the book, he starts law school
Henry favourite star wars is Jedi, Alex's is Empire
June is allergic to peanuts
Alex runs and runs to cope and clear his head
He did not know he was bi until after Henry kissed him. Yes, he had a friend with benefits relationship with his high school friend Liam, but he genuinely thought it was perfectly platonic and straight
Also he doesn't keep on touch with Liam after high school (their friendship just slowly fades away, with living so far and Alex being suddenly famous) but they reconnect at the end
Alex and Henry move in together on a brownstone on Brooklyn, eventually they marry (after Henry abdicates) on the lake house, they move to a farmhouse on Austin, they spend their honeymoon unpacking
Pez is lactose intolerant
Bluebonnet is June’s code name, Barracuda is Alex’s
Henry is a big Austen fan, and makes references to her books through the story
Amy knits
Zahra has a sister who recently had a baby
June forced Alex into dresses as a kid
Henry’s favorite food is a cheap falafel stand ten minutes from the palace
Henry really likes sailing
Shaan has a motorbike
Alex is allergic to dust
Henry keeps a copy of Le Monde, the newspaper from the day they were in Paris, on his room
Alex and Nora dated when Alex was 17 and Nora 18 but realized they were definitely better off as friends. When they are bored, they like to create rumors about their relationship
Alex makes tons of lists to organize
Alex wears chinos, and claims kakhis are for white people
Nora is very good at math
Alex grew up catholic
At the end of their e-mails, Alex and Henry quoted historical lgbt love letters
Nora’s one-bedroom is “full of books and plants she tends to with complex spreadsheets of watering schedules.”
Nora is bisexual and on the aro spectrum (not canon on the book than she’s aro, but Casey did mention it somewhere)
Arthur gifted Henry a telescope for his seventh birthday
The karaoke scene happens not while on Texas but in some club full of queer people. The whole group is there, Pez got them matching kimonos. Alex’s says Hoe Dameron, Henry’s says Prince Buttercup. Aside from Henry singing Don’t Stop Me Now, Bea sings Call Me by Blondie, and Pez sings So Emotional by Whitney Houston in a “shockingly flawless falsetto”.
The lakehouse confessions happens while at night
The Kensington fight (after the lakehouse confession) is much more dramatic, they don’t go to the v&a that night, but the next night. That morning Henry got up early, and brought Alex coffee when he woke up. They made up.
Also Alex takes his coffee with cinnamon
Alex, Nora and Henry are gen z, while June is a millennial
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darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 5: Forgotten
terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!
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Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)
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Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. Your family gains new additions.
Hello! My sincere apologies for how long this took. I got massively sidetracked by researching how to bind a book, the interest in which hit at a completely inappropriate time in the writing-editing-crafting cycle, lol. I should definitely be focusing on finishing this thing before I start fixating on binding books. Anyway; this chapter is a little time-jumpy, given that I have to speed through a bunch of time. Also, note that I've fudged with the ages of Alicent's kids, so in Episode 3, know that she is now pregnant with Aemond, not Helaena like in the show. It's the only way to make him of-age in the Episode 8 scenes. Thank you to @randomdragonfires for workshopping this shitto for me, ahahaha! Happy (and well-deserved) holidays to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs, who I have graciously given a night off of slaving away for me, lol.
TRIGGERS: continued discussion of child grief, Viserys's shenanigans in impregnating an underaged Alicent (canon, this is NOT MY ADDITION).
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When Alicent gets married to Papa, they have a big ceremony. So so many people come from all over the kingdom to see Papa take a new Queen, and the days of the wedding—there are lots of days to them starting in marriage—are full of more noise and colour and movement than you could ever think was real.
Her dress is very pretty, and Papa looks very nice in his new coat, but neither of them look so happy as people who are going to be in marriage should be. Papa keeps playing with the ring on his finger that is from Mama, while Alicent just looks like she is afraid. You think it might be because of how loud everyone is being.
’Nyra isn’t happy, either. She keeps you on her lap the entire time with an angry look on her face and doesn’t speak to Alicent very much at all, but at least she tries to be kind when she does. She ignores Papa, and because you are all sitting at the high table and everyone is watching you, he cannot tell her she is being rude and naughty.
Because you don’t want to look at Alicent’s unhappy face or ’Nyra’s angry one, you play with your sister’s necklace, letting the shiny metal take all your attention. It is Valyrian steel, which is what Papa’s and Uncle’s swords are made out of, so it is very special. Uncle gave it to her. When you let your fingers swirl over the ruby in the middle of the big pendant over and over, you pretend that it’s a part of him and that he’s here, after all.
After the big ceremony is done, life goes back to almost-normal. Now that Alicent is Papa’s Queen, she is something called a stepmother, meaning that Brella and Septa and all the people who are made to look after you and ’Nyra have to talk to her about you both. She is like your mama. You wake up and break your fast with Alicent, and she cuts up your food instead of Mama, and she takes you outside to play and tells you about the names of the flowers. Then, when it is time to sleep again, she reads you a story. You think that she likes it very much because she always seems sad until she sees you, and then her face goes bright like the sun.
‘Nyra doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like it at all. When she learns that Alicent is acting like your mama, her face goes very red like she’s going to scream, but she just goes very quiet instead and storms out of your rooms. For that whole day, ’Nyra takes you to the gardens and to see Syrax and to the library to learn some more High Valyrian, her new sworn shield Ser Criston behind her all the time. She never once lets you go see Alicent to do the things you normally do. When you finally get to be in the room with her at suppertime with Papa and ’Nyra, which Papa has said you all must do now so that everyone can get along, all she does is give you a small smile that doesn’t make her eyes go bright like usual and ask about your big day with your sister.
That is how things are for a while. Either you will go through your days with Alicent or with ’Nyra, and never both in one day because ’Nyra is still so angry at Alicent for being in marriage with Papa. You keep asking why, but your sister doesn’t tell you anything. She just goes quiet and frowns and mutters things you cannot hear. Meanwhile, Alicent will always stop, take a big breath that sounds shaky when she lets it out, and say, “I have no quarrel with Rhaenyra. She is as welcome to my rooms and in my company as you are, Princess.”
You think that might be a lie.
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One day, though, everything changes.
’Nyra decides to take you to the library so that you can look at more books in High Valyrian. Even the books written in the Common Tongue make no sense to you yet, and Brella told you this is because you are not old enough to learn reading properly. Still, your sister says that it is still good to try when you’re young, so she sits beside you and points out all the funny-looking symbols and tells you what they mean all together. You fall asleep in there instead of having a nap in your bed, but ’Nyra just puts a blanket over you and keeps reading. When you wake, you listen to her voice as she speaks the words from the pages aloud. You don’t understand all of it, but you think you’ve learned more and more since Mama died and she stopped being friends with Alicent. It means she has lots of time for you. Maybe that shouldn’t make you happy, but you cannot help it.
At supper, you see Lord Hightower, Alicent’s papa, beside her. That means that you have to be next to ’Nyra tonight, so you follow her to her side of the table and sit in the chair that the maid pulls out for you. The chair is higher than the others, made special so that you can reach the food that is put before you. Looking around, it is easy to tell that something is different from how happy Lord Hightower looks and how smiling Papa’s face is.
“My two daughters,” he says a bit too loudly, cheeks bright red. His cup is in front of him, and the gold shines red from the drink inside. Wine, you think. It is for men and women, not little girls, and it makes the people who drink it act strange like Papa is now. He waves his hand in a ‘hello’ as he lifts his cup to his mouth and takes a sip. “Ah!”
’Nyra starts eating her food without a word. Everyone has plates with different foods on it, but you have a bowl in front of your seat. Because you are small, the cooks always give you pottage for your supper so that you can eat it with a spoon and no one has to cut things up for you. You don’t always like it—there are lots of lumps and you can never tell what taste is going to be in your mouth with each bite—but it is warm and makes your tummy nice and full.
The room is full of the sounds of chewing and clack-clacking when the knives and forks hit the plates. You pick up your spoon and scoop up some food. There are dark bits, which means the cooks have put meat in it. You scrunch your nose.
Papa coughs between bites. He is still smiling a lot. “It seems like an age since I saw you last!”
“We had supper with you yesterday evening,” ’Nyra says.
“Ah, yes!” He takes another drink of his wine. Maybe he shouldn’t, because he is blinking very much like you do when you’re trying to stay awake. “Perhaps the waiting has made it seem longer.”
“Waiting?”
“I am sure you have noticed Otto’s presence by now.”
’Nyra doesn’t even look at the man. “My lord.” Her voice seems cold.
“Princess.” Lord Hightower bends his head, but he doesn’t sound very happy either.
Alicent puts her hand on Papa’s arm. ’Nyra watches so closely that you wonder if her eyes can make holes in other people’s skin. “I—we—have some news, Rhaenyra.”
“Oh?” She sounds bored.
“Well…”
When Alicent doesn’t say anything, ’Nyra makes a huffing noise. It is very rude. “Well?” she asks, looking between Alicent and Papa. “What is it, then? Everyone’s acting rather strange.”
“Alicent is with child,” Papa says.
‘With child’ is what people say when a baby is growing in a lady’s belly. It’s what Mama told you before Baelon grew very large inside her.
’Nyra freezes, almost like she has forgotten how to move. No one says anything. Papa’s smile—the one that his words made so much bigger when he said them out loud—begins to fall, more and more with each moment that ’Nyra does nothing at all. Then, it goes away completely, and he’s no longer happy like he was.
It’s quiet again. Not the nice kind—the kind that means that someone is about to yell or be naughty.
“A baby?” you ask. Maybe you can stop the bad from happening if you help everyone remember that you’re still here.
Alicent looks at you, the fear leaving her face a little. She nods. “Yes, Princess. You’re to have a brother or sis—”
“Half-brother.” ’Nyra’s lips move, but the rest of her stays still. She cannot stop staring between Papa and Alicent. “Or half-sister. Either way, they will not be your full blood.”
“You are correct, Princess.” From the way Lord Hightower speaks and how silent Alicent and Papa are at ’Nyra’s words, you think she must have said something quite mean. He gives her a little smile, one that makes her hands squeeze really tight on her knife and fork. “Even so, these are glad tidings, indeed. Let us all pray for the Queen to be delivered of a son.”
“I’m sure that would be of great benefit to the Hightowers, my Lord. A son… to solidify your claim to my father’s throne.”
Lord Hightower stops smiling. Alicent gasps.
Papa makes a small noise. “Rhaenyra—”
All at once, she stands, the plate in front of her clattering loudly with how quick she rises. “Congratulations, Your Grace.” She doesn’t sound very happy for Alicent, even if the words are nice. “Forgive me—I feel suddenly unwell.”
“Daughter—”
’Nyra ignores Papa and storms out of the room, leaving her food only half-eaten. The rest of supper is very quiet, the loudest noise of all being the sound of your own breathing.
Isn’t a baby meant to be happy news? you wonder. You look around, but no one here is very happy—except for Lord Hightower. Though he isn’t smiling, he has his head held high like he has had every one of his wishes granted all at once.
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“What do you think, Princess?” Brella asks.
You stare down into the cradle at the baby. Your brother. Aegon. He is squirming, face bright red, squished and crying. He hasn’t stopped even once since you came into the room. He might have been crying since before you did, even. Aside from the bright hair on top of his head, you don’t think he looks very much like you.
“He’s nice,” is what you say, but you don’t know if you really mean it. It’s more for Alicent, who is watching you from over on the bed. She looks very tired. If you said something less kind, she may cry.
Alicent smiles. “Thank you, Princess. Nurse—bring him to me, please.”
She doesn’t mean Brella. There is another woman here, Gwenys, who Lord Hightower and Septa Marlow assigned to help give Aegon milk and take care of him when Alicent cannot. Gwenys comes and picks up the baby, walking over to give him to Alicent. She rocks him in her arms which doesn’t stop him from crying, but she still keeps on bouncing him softly. He is very unhappy.
Now that Alicent is holding Aegon, you know that she’ll forget you are there. Ever since Papa told you and ’Nyra that he was in Alicent’s belly, neither of them have had much time for you. It feels like all the people in the Keep—from Papa and Alicent and Lord Hightower to the servants and maids and stableboys—have been more excited for the baby than they ever were for you. The only person who has remembered you is ’Nyra, and so you are with her on most days. It sometimes makes you sad, because it really was very fun to play pretend that Alicent was your mama for a while, but ’Nyra says that it wasn’t going to last, anyway.
“She is to have her own child to care for, now,” she told you in the days after learning about the new baby. “You were good practice—but you aren’t her blood, not really. Not like you and I. Her son will be born, and you’ll be given to a nurse or a Septa to raise.” When you cried, she bent down and wiped away your tears. “It doesn’t make her a bad person,” she said quietly. “But this is the way of the world, sister. Men and women, kings and queens… they all want sons. Us daughters must stick together, yes?”
’Nyra was right. At first, Alicent tried to keep pretending to be like your mama. But then, the baby made her very ill, so she stopped asking you to come to break your fast so you wouldn’t have to see her being sick into the pail by her bed. Then, she spent so much time sleeping that she didn’t have the energy to come outside with you, or to dance with you, and soon, the only time you would see her was at suppertime. Even that wasn’t always. And now the baby is here, you don’t think she will be going back to the way it used to be.
Maybe that is why he feels like such a stranger to you. At least with baby Baelon, you got to feel him kicking in Mama’s tummy. Aegon wasn’t here for so long, and then all of a sudden, he was. He is. You don’t know him at all. He’s just a baby, come to take your Papa and almost-Mama away from you like all the rest.
Brella’s hand on your shoulder is what helps you walk towards the door, Alicent and Aegon staying in the room behind you. With your back turned, it’s easier to pretend that Alicent is very sad by you leaving.
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The more moons pass, the more faded Mama’s face is in your memory. You try to hold onto the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she smiled, or how her hair would curl a bit like yours after her bath, or the way she’d smell like roses when she hugged you tight. It slips away, out of reach. Putting rose oil in your bath helps you, but only a little bit—and the longer that Mama is gone, the less you can remember of her.
Papa doesn’t like to talk about her. When you ask him, he just spins the ring on his finger around and says, “Another time, perhaps.” You know that ‘another time’ really means ‘never’.
There is no one else in the Keep that really knew her like you and your family knew her, except ’Nyra. She tells you stories sometimes, but you don’t ask a lot because she usually likes to tell the ones that have you in them. When she finishes, she always smiles and asks, “Do you remember?” You never can, and it leaves you feeling like someone has scooped out all your insides.
So, Mama fades, and becomes part of that place in your mind where the things that are being forgotten go. Even though you try and try and try, there is nothing that can stop the forgetting. One day, you think she might be nothing more than a quiet sort of sadness, like looking out the window at the rain and wondering why it makes your chest hurt so much.
Seeing Alicent with Aegon is the only thing that reminds you of her. Even though Alicent’s hair is red where Mama’s was silver, and Aegon is loud and angry where you are quiet and shy, the way that she kisses his cheeks or hums little songs under her breath to him makes you think of how Mama would do the same for you. He doesn’t seem to be very happy when she does these things. If it were you in his place, you know you’d be better than him. You wish she’d realise that.
It seems like no time at all goes by when Alicent is with child again, meaning she’s going to have another baby. If it is anything like Aegon, you do not think you’ll like it very much. Sometimes, you feel very naughty for it, but you cannot help how he makes you feel. All he wants to do is make a fuss and take everyone’s attention, and he keeps crying and being naughty even as Alicent’s belly grows bigger and bigger with your new brother or sister.
When Helaena is born, Papa and Lord Hightower aren’t as pleased as they were with Aegon. You can tell because, while they are both in the room when you come to meet her, neither one is looking at her as she lays in the cradle. They had both been looking down at Aegon last time. You think it is because Helaena is a girl, like you and ’Nyra. You decide that you have to love her if they won’t.
She is a quiet baby, but so still that it makes Gwenys worry and worry, even though all she is doing is lying in her cradle and staring straight up. Maybe she knows how rude her big brother is, you think, and she wants to do and be all the things he isn’t.
You weren’t allowed to hold Aegon because he was so disagreeable, which means he would probably have screamed and cried if you did. He still screams and cries, which is why Alicent has to spend all her days with him even though she’s just had a second baby, so Helaena is by herself with Gwenys most hours.
Helaena isn’t like Aegon. This time, Gwenys has you sit in a chair with a pillow under your arm and brings the baby to you. “Mind her head,” she says, tugging your arm forward so that Helaena fits nicely in your arms. “There we go.”
She is a big baby, round and heavy and warm, but you don’t mind because she gazes up at you with large blue eyes that look like they might turn purple when she gets older. The hairs she has on her head—and there aren’t many, not like Aegon had—are silver, and you know that she will look very much like you when she has grown more. When you stroke a finger over the skin on her hand, her whole fist grabs onto it, strong even though she is so young. It’s like she knows who you are, even without any words being said.
You wonder if this is how ’Nyra felt when she met you—a burning that tingles all through your arms and legs, not in a way that hurts, no, but in a way that makes you want to squeeze tight and never let go.
Helaena doesn’t cry. She falls asleep while you’re holding her, her face turned into you so that you can feel her tiny breaths through your dress. It is special and warm and love-feeling like Alicent used to be, like Mama was when she was not-dead. The hurt goes far away, still there but not so much, not so heavy in your chest.
For a little while, the sadness—of forgetting Mama, of being forgotten by so many others—fades away, too.
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When you are five summers old, you have to say goodbye to Brella.
All the while you are breaking your fast, she looks like she is about to start crying. Even though you wonder why, you don’t ask. When someone cries, it means that something bad has happened. So much bad has already happened, and you don’t know if you want to hear any more. You eat in quiet, scooping porridge into your mouth while the sound of sniffles fills the room. The taste of honey would make you feel happy, but not when Brella is so upset. Your food sinks to the bottom of your belly like one of the hot bricks you sometimes get under your blankets when it’s very cold at night, only there’s nothing nice about it. It’s hard and rough and makes you feel sick.
After you have finished every bite—you have to eat all of it, or you don’t get to play—Brella takes you by the hand and leads you to the chair. “There is… there is something I have to tell you,” she says, slow and shaky.
I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. You wish that you were like ’Nyra, that you could say the words out loud—but you cannot. You don’t want to know, but you say nothing, and you wait for whatever bad thing is coming to show itself.
“I…” Brella swallows and looks down at your hands, still holding onto each other even though you are sitting and there is no need. “Tell me again how old you are, Princess.”
“Five summers.” It’s a very small number, but you are still proud because you’re almost a big girl now.
Brella laughs, nodding. “That’s right. Five. My goodness. How time flies!”
You find that silly. Time doesn’t fly. It isn’t a thing-you-can-touch, and only things-you-can-touch can fly, like dragons or birds or insects. Still, you try not to show your thinking on your face as Brella squeezes your hand tighter.
“Being five summers old is a very important milestone when you’re a prince or princess,” she says. “Do you know why?”
“No,” you say. “Why?”
Here, she stops. “It… It means—gods, I don’t know if I can say it.”
“Well, then. It appears that I must,” comes a voice from the door.
You turn. Septa Marlow stands with her hands joined in front of her, her mouth pinched into a line so small it is like it has disappeared from her face. Her grey wimple makes her skin look just as colourless. She steps forward, and the sound of her shoes touching the ground seems as loud as thunder.
“You are of an age to begin your lessons, Princess. Thus, it is time for your nurse”—she looks at Brella and her lip curls, though you cannot tell if she’s happy or angry—“to depart, and for me to take over your care.”
The sick feeling gets worse, and you wonder if you might bring up all your food from how bad the pains are in your belly. “But—but Brella will still stay, though? For Aegon and Helaena?”
Septa Marlow huffs. “There is no need, silly child. Their nurse has already been appointed, and Gwenys will suffice for any future children borne by the Queen. Brella is to collect her things and return to the Vale.”
Brella has taught you some of the places on the map that shows Papa’s kingdom. You live in King’s Landing, which is in the Crownlands, and it is at the bottom of the map. The Vale is where Mother—Mother, not Mama, Mama is for babies and I am not a baby anymore, you have to keep telling yourself—came from, that it is a bit up and to the side from the Crownlands. It isn’t that far in the drawings, but Brella says that maps show a smaller picture of what is really a very, very long distance.
If Brella has to return to the Vale, it means she will be very, very far away.
You think you might be frozen, like ice. You cannot say anything. All that you can think, over and over, is no, no, no, please, not Brella, no, no, no. The fire-burn of tears warms behind your eyes, but you know that you cannot let Septa see you cry. She’ll think you are weak.
Brella sniffles. “I can write to you,” she says, pulling you closer to her. “And, when you’re old enough, you can write to me. How about that?”
You nod, but her words don’t make you feel better. Paper isn’t the same as a person, not really. Even if she puts letters on paper and sends them to you, it won’t be like one of her hugs or the way she laughs when you miss a dance step or fall over in the grass. It won’t smell like her or look like her. It won’t make you feel safe like she does.
She will turn not-real like Mother. Only, maybe it is worse—because you’ll know that, somewhere a long way away from you, she will be real, but that you cannot have her anymore.
“I don’t want you to go,” is what you say, but it comes out like a whisper, not strong like you wanted it to.
“I know, my darling,” Brella says, hugging you tight so that you can feel her heart beating through her skin and yours. “I know, and I’m so sorry—”
“If you could unhand my charge, Nurse.” Septa’s eyebrow is raised. “Although—now that it occurs to me—‘nurse’ is no longer the appropriate moniker, is it?”
Brella glares at her. “There’s no need to be so—”
“Your time here is at an end.” Even though she looks like she’s trying not to show her feelings on her face, Septa lifts her chin in the air like ’Nyra used to when she would win at cyvasse against Alicent. “Say your goodbyes.”
“What—here? Now?” Brella’s mouth is open like she’s very surprised. “I’d thought the Princess would be coming to see me off at the harb—”
“That is not a good idea. She is too… attached.” Septa says it like it is a curse. “A public display of histrionics does not a respectable Princess make, no matter her juvenility.” You have no idea what most of these words mean, but the way they make Brella sink in her seat cannot be a good thing.
She tucks your hair behind your ears as she looks down at you, her eyes wet. “Be good,” she says, very soft so that Septa cannot hear them well. “Make sure you write to me, yes?”
She brushes her thumbs over your cheeks—out, in, out, in—the way she does when she really means ‘I love you’.
“Please stay,” you whisper, trying not to let your lower lip wobble like it wants to so badly. “Please don’t go.”
Brella hugs you again, her whole body shaking. Your face is smushed up against her shoulder, the smell of her herness filling your nose with so much warm. You wonder if, by clinging on tight, you can stop her from leaving. She cannot leave. She is what you have left now that Mam—Mother is gone, now that Papa has Alicent and ’Nyra has Papa and Uncle has his war somewhere away from you. She cannot leave. She cannot.
It feels like she has been holding on for forever and also for no time at all when she lets go, stands up, and walks away without a word. The door shuts.
She didn’t even say goodbye.
Is it worse or better, watching her go away? you wonder through the cold that settles in your body, in your arms and legs, the sharpness of it so much that you feel like shivering even though the sun is shining hot outside. You never saw Mother die. She was here, and then she wasn’t. But you have to watch Brella leave, knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it all the while.
“Dry your tears, girl. ‘Tis about time your coddling came to an end.” Septa pulls you by the shoulder off the chair. Her hand doesn’t feel warm like Brella’s does. Her stare—fixed on you—travels up and down, her mouth crinkling at the corner like she is thinking about something. “Why she was allowed to linger past your name day, I will never understand.”
You cannot think of anything to say, so you keep quiet. It doesn’t seem to make Septa like you any more than she did before, which you don’t think was very much. The tears keep falling, though you try and try to make them disappear.
“Now,” she says, clapping her hands sharply. The loudness of the noise makes you jump. Teardrops shake onto your dress. “We have a long day ahead of us. The Queen has requested an update on your progress, so you will be learning no less than three hymns before the end of the sennight. I should like to provide her with”—she looks you up and down again, and this time it seems like she is thinking something unkind about you—“some indication that you will shape up to be a lady of high standing.”
I’m a Princess, not a lady, you want to say. You don’t.
Septa begins striding away, then stops and turns around to face you. “I expect you to follow when I walk, and to acknowledge me when I speak by saying ‘Yes, Septa Marlow’.” She almost spits the words at you. “Understood?”
“Yes, Septa Marlow.” It doesn’t sound as strong or as clear as when she said it. You wish you could sound less afraid. Still, she seems to find it good enough. She says nothing afterward, just waits for you to trail along after her.
“Hmph.” She clicks her tongue. Staring down at you again, she adds, “And stand up straight.”
You do as you’re told.
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Septa Marlow is as frightfully mean as you always feared.
One thing you learn quickly is that everything you do and say is wrong. When you laugh, it is too ‘unbecoming’; when you smile, you show too much teeth; when you walk, you are too hunched over; when you eat, you are too ‘gluttonous’. You’re a ‘simpleton’ when you ask to play with your dolls, so they sit at the foot of your bed slowly being covered by dust; you’re ‘graceless’ when you try to dance, so you practice after you have been put to bed to try and get better before each morning; you’re ‘impertinent’ when you say what you’re thinking instead of keeping it to yourself, so you learn to let your thoughts stay inside your head. There is little that she doesn’t pick on and tell you that you need to change.
“Use full words, please!” she says whenever you forget to speak in the proper way that she expects. She always raps her willow switch on the table in front of you after that. Lucky for you, she has not yet used it to hurt you. “It is ‘does not’, not ‘doesn’t’. There is no need to employ such low-class mannerisms as a lady of your standing!”
“Yes, Septa Marlow.” There is no point trying to tell her that she’s wrong.
It isn’t all bad, though. Having Septa Marlow take over means that you are now expected to learn all sorts of things, and a lot of it is very interesting. New words, new Houses, new hymns, new dances—you start to learn how to sew, how to put letters together to read them, how to count numbers and add and take them away to make different numbers. Septa says that there are so many things a noblewoman like you needs to be able to do by the time she is ready to be married, so that she can run her husband’s household and take care of him and her future children. That is a long time from now, but practice makes perfect.
The only time you are not with Septa is when you are with your family, like today.
Because Aegon has lived past being a baby—and Septa says that babies die a lot from the weather or from being sick or from being fed too much or too little or sometimes for no reason at all—Papa has announced that everyone must go on a hunt to celebrate his name day. You have to sit in the wheelhouse with he and Alicent and ’Nyra and Aegon and three other nurses, but not Helaena. She’s only a baby still, so she must stay in the Keep with Gwenys.
It is not a very fun ride. Being in a wheelhouse with them all means putting ’Nyra very close to Alicent, whose belly has grown big with a baby again. Lots of people have lots to say about how many babies Alicent has had since she married Papa, and most of it is not very nice towards your mother. She could only have two girls, and it took her a long time to have you after ’Nyra.
Papa thinks there is another boy in Alicent’s belly. You hope not. Aegon is loud and rude. You think it might be worse if there were two of him instead of just one.
“…whole of our family off to celebration and adventure in the Kingswood,” Papa is saying. You swing your legs back and forth, though you must stop each time you roll over a big bump in the road. You stay quiet, because Septa says a lady does not talk unless she is asked a question.
A very big bump in the road makes Alicent’s smile fall from her face.
“Should you be travelling in such condition?” ’Nyra asks. She sounds worried, even though she is no longer friends with Alicent.
“The maester said that being out in nature would do me well,” is what Alicent says back.
Papa starts talking while he finishes giving Aegon a sip from his cup. You wonder if it’s wine. “Well, you will be with your own child sooner than late, and make me a proud grandsire.” He is smiling, perhaps at the thought of it.
‘No, I will not,’ the look on ’Nyra’s face seems to say. You cannot help but agree with her. Having babies seems like such a tiring thing to do.
“It's not so bad.” Alicent has to speak louder to be heard over the rattling of the wheels and the hoofbeats of the horses. “The days are long, but Aegon came quickly and without fuss. Helaena, too.”
The nurse who is holding Aegon in her lap—Delia, you think her name is—waves a toy dragon in front of him. He smacks at it with his hands, frowning. You would never treat your toys like that.
“You should ride out with me today,” Papa says to ’Nyra. “Join in the chase, while you”—his eyes go to you—“sit about with your lady stepmother. Hm?”
“Okay, Papa,” you say quietly. Proper ladies do what their fathers tell them to.
’Nyra’s hand finds yours. “I’d rather not. The boars squeal like children when they're being slaughtered.” From the way her fingers squeeze yours and her stare fixes on Aegon, you know she doesn’t mean you when she says that. “I find it discomfiting.”
“It's a hunt, Rhaenyra.” Papa smiles. It is a careful sort of smile, not a happy one. Aegon’s yell distracts him for a moment, but he is quick to return to speaking to ’Nyra. “How would you like to participate?” he asks her.
“I’d be leaving my sister alone with the vultures of the Realm,” ’Nyra says, “so I'm not sure why I must.”
Trying to understand what everyone means by what they say is very difficult—you aren’t sure if she’s saying that the ladies coming along are vultures, or if she’s trying to say Alicent is. You don’t even know what a vulture is, so you aren’t sure if it is a bad or good thing to be.
“Because you are my eldest daughter. The Princess.” Papa looks like he is finding it harder and harder to stop himself from telling ’Nyra off. “And you have duties.”
“As I am ceaselessly reminded.” Your sister says it softly, but it is easy enough for you to hear from your place next to her.
Papa doesn’t, though. “I'm sorry?”
Instead of making up a lie or saying that she did not say anything at all, ’Nyra repeats herself louder. It is terribly rude, but you enjoy watching as you have always enjoyed watching her being brave against other people. “As I am ceaselessly reminded.”
“You wouldn't need to be reminded if you ever attended to them.”
“No one's here for me!”
Papa doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Neither does Alicent. They both just fall silent along with the nurses. Even Aegon stops making all his annoying noises, instead sitting so still that he could be sleeping if his eyes were not open.
You make sure to hold onto your sister’s hand even tighter. If there is anyone in the whole world who does know what to say, it is you. If only you were brave enough.
I understand, ’Nyra, you want to say. No one’s here for me, either. No one’s ever here for me.
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skullrockbi · 7 months
Text
A small thread crossposting from Twitter. |Childhood sweethearts, trans Eddie, canonical major character death.|
Elementary aged Steve was in love with Ruth Munson. She had the prettiest hair and biggest brown eyes and was so smart. She was his first love, but she moved away in the middle of 5th grade. Steve was devastated. His one true love gone.
Steve was secretly excited in 7th grade when a boy with big brown eyes and a buzz cut started 8th grade and shared Ruth’s last name. Surely Eddie Munson was related to his Ruth. Eddie looked kinda mean though. But Tommy double dog dared him to ask.
Steve finally catches Eddie in the hallway one day and blurts out without an introduction or preamble “Do you have a cousin named Ruth?”
Eddie laughs at him, “Sorry big boy, can’t say I do.”
Steve blushes and ducks his head, mumbling a thanks.
It’s not til many years later when a grieving Wayne gives a very confused Steve a box. “Eddie would have wanted you to have these back.”
Steve and Eddie barely interacted prior to the whole Vecna Upside Down situation. How could Eddie have something to return to him.
Inside the box is every childish love letter he sent to Ruth, a paper crown, a drawing of Ruth as king and Steve as her queen and a small ring shaped like a key with a heart lock dangling from the band. The key to Steve’s heart that he gave her for Christmas before she moved.
There’s also a drawing/note dated September 1979.
“You asked me today if Ruth was my cousin. I wish I could tell you the truth.”
The sketch shows King Eddie & Queen Steve, updated for the passage of time.
Steve falls to the floor crying.
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